It's Gonna End Bloody
by ReginaSong
Summary: (Set near end of S4) Lillith is trying to break the sixtieth seal and it's up to the Winchesters to stop it. Will the horror that ensues bring the brothers closer together or drive them farther apart? Also, Bobby's in over his head and Cas has to choose a side once and for all. Action, blood, secrets, brotherly angst, and friendship. Not a romance. Rated T for swearing. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

**Summary****:**_ Lillith is trying to break the sixtieth seal and it's up to the Winchesters to stop it. Sam and Dean are joined by past friend Josh in a fight that will cost them all dearly. Cas is realizing there are three-sides to this war, not two, and the time has come he must decide whether to stand with the angels or the Winchesters. Out of his love for the brothers, Bobby is thrown into a situation far more terrifying than any he has faced before._

_This story starts off in the episode 'The Monster at the End of this Book' right after Dean brought Chuck and his guardian Arch-angel into the room where Sam was with Lillith and Lillith split. It is a continuation of my other two stories (Stones Unturned and Going Vader) but is a completely separate hunt. If you don't want to read those ones, a bit of the backstory of the OC's in the first 3 chapters may be lost on you but you could probably figure out the gist of it and it won't matter as much once they get into the hunt. Sam and Dean are completely cannon so you'll know what's going on with them. _

_**Chapter 1**__** - Prologue**_

_**Tag to The Monster at the End of this Book...**_

_**May 2009**_

Dean placed two fingers gently on the neck of the blonde dental hygienist Lillith had been possessing, managing to find some small measure of comfort in the slow but strong pulse he felt there. He looked up and glanced around the cheap motel room, still trying to gather his wits together after what had just happened.

Sam was still sitting on the bed, back up against the far wall, a look of surprise and what Dean thought might be disappointment on his face. Dean knew Sam had hoped to kill Lillith tonight but when he had burst into the room, he had found Lillith on top of Sam, inching Ruby's knife down towards his brother's chest. Proof Sam couldn't take her on. Proof Dean had been right and that they should have avoided the demon bitch to start with until they had a workable plan. A plan that _didn't_ include Sam using his demon powers.

Chuck was still standing near the door, wide-eyed and practically hyperventilating. Dean racked his brain trying to decide what their next move should be but a slight stir from the blonde at his feet made the decision for him. He turned sharply to Sam.

"Dude, pack up. We're gettin' out of here. Now."

Sam obeyed quickly and silently, his face betraying nothing but a determination to pack, his fury and bitter disappointment hidden far below the surface. Lying and hiding his thoughts and emotions had become easier for Sam in recent months, his skills at the deception now well surpassing those of his big brother.

"What about her?" Chuck asked meekly, pointing to the mostly unconscious girl on the floor.

"We'll be outta here before she wakes up," Dean assured him briskly, grabbing his own already-packed duffel from the chair. Seeing the look on Chuck's face, he realized that hadn't been the point of the writer's question. "She'll be fine," he added more gently.

Within one minute Sam was packed and they were all piled in the Impala, the tarp over the back window flapping in the wind as Dean roared out of the Toreador Motel's parking lot. The three were silent for the ten-minute drive to Chuck's house, Sam and Dean both wanting to wait until they were alone to discuss what had happened. Not that it mattered anyway, Dean thought ruefully, as Chuck pretty much had a front row seat to everything the Winchesters did. That was _really_ gonna bother him the next time he got laid.

Dean guided the Impala to the curb behind a silver sedan in front of the writer's house, not bothering to turn the engine off. Chuck sat still and silent in the back seat for a few seconds before both hunters turned to face him expectantly.

"Dude, this is your stop," Dean said, trying not to sound impatient.

Chuck looked warily up the walk to his porch, still making no move to get out of the car. "I didn't see this part," he said finally, his voice on the cusp of being whiny. "How do I know Lillith's not in there waiting for me?"

Dean groaned loudly but shut off the engine and threw the Impala's driver's door open, quickly stepping out of the car into the rain. He headed up the walk with a mockingly fearless stride, not looking back as he called out to the prophet. "Come on Chuck, I'll check it out for you."

Sam turned to look at Chuck in the back seat, a teasing grin spreading across the young hunter's face. Chuck gave him a sheepish look before getting out and following Dean up the path, taking two steps to the taller man's one.

Dean threw the door open and stepped boldly inside. "Lillith!" he called out loudly in a mocking tone. "Oh Lillith, are you hiding in here waiting for Chuck? Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

"Alright, alright," Chuck grumbled, reaching for a half-empty bottle of booze on his coffee table.

Dean grinned. "Look," he said in a more friendly tone, "You're safer than anybody on the planet. Archangel watchin' your back, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You know, I should have known all along you weren't just my imagination. I could never have made you such a wise ass."

Dean had to laugh. Chuck was borderline neurotic, but he was likeable. And he had come through for Dean tonight, as had Cas. "Yeah well, try to write something nice about me soon, would ya? I'm getting really tired of all this crap that keeps happening." He surprised himself with the admission but gave Chuck a friendly thump on the shoulder as he stepped past the writer to head outside.

"Uh, Dean?"

The hunter turned back around. "Yeah?"

"About that crap, I uh, well, there's something I should probably tell you. Something I didn't write about."

"What now?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Better not be anything else happening to my car."

Chuck bit his lip and hesitated, a look of trepidation on his face.

"Spit it out Chuckles."

"Well, it's about Lex."

That caught Dean by surprise. His head jerked up and he narrowed his eyes at the smaller man. He had been trying not to think of Alex Brenton for over three months now, since the day he had turned her over to her uncle for psychiatric help. Trying but not succeeding. "What about her?" he demanded, sounding fiercer than he had intended.

"Uh, Red-Eyes is real."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam sat alone in the car, the only sound to distract him from his thoughts being the sound of the rain drumming loudly on the back window tarp. He was angry. That bitch Lillith had escaped again. He had killed Alistair no problem; in fact, it had been almost easy. He would have actually enjoyed the experience had Dean not been lying unconscious and hurt on the floor and Castiel hadn't been staring wide-eyed at him with shock and revulsion. Why could he still not kill Lillith? He hadn't even been able to make her flinch. Granted, it seemed to work both ways, but it was still damn frustrating. It was Lillith he needed dead. She was the biggest threat to Dean right now.

What else did he need to do? He had been drinking Ruby's blood for months now. Just a few days after taking down the demon Thanin in Kansas, Ruby had shown up and sliced a deep cut on her own arm, offering him a taste so he could see that it wasn't just a one-time thing. He had told her not to but when he saw the red liquid pooling in her elbow crease he vividly remembered the sensation he had felt when he had taken a few mouthfuls of Thanin's. It could be a valuable weapon, he had argued to himself. He should try Ruby's once, just a sip so he would know what to expect when the time came that he needed it.

'Just a sip' turned into greedy mouthfuls and within seconds he was sitting shotgun in her stolen car, eyes closed and head back, taking deep, satisfying breaths as the surge of power flowed through him. It felt invigorating, stimulating, energizing. He had suddenly felt an incredibly strong urge to kill a demon and relive the experience he had enjoyed when he had killed Thanin. He was bitterly disappointed there wasn't an expendable one around but before he knew it, he had found an alternate method of release. A method that he had forsaken since Dean's return from Hell. A method that had ended with he and Ruby mostly naked in her back seat. Honestly, he would have preferred to have had a demon to gank.

He had started drinking it only when a possible fight was imminent but it quickly became a regular occurrence. Now he had gone so far as to keep a flask of it handy in case he couldn't get a hold of Ruby. It was a matter of convenience, he had convinced himself at the time. Ruby couldn't always drop what she was doing, whatever the Hell it was that she did when she was away from him, to come and juice him up.

His inner struggle not to admit that he wanted the blood, craved the blood, _needed_ the blood, was an almost physical battle. He spent many hours a day convincing himself it was for Dean's sake that he was doing this. For humanity's sake. The angels were wrong; Dean wasn't strong enough to take on Lillith. Sam was stronger and after everything Dean had done for him his whole life, he could at least spare his brother that burden. Sam would take care of it. Like he had taken care of Thanin. Like he had taken care of Alistair. He would prove this demon blood in him didn't mean he was evil by using it to literally save the world.

He glanced up the overgrown walk at Chuck's slightly derelict house_. What was taking so long? _A sudden thought struck him and his heart lurched in fear_. Was Chuck telling Dean about the demon blood?_ The Prophet had voiced his opinion to Sam, which had not been favourable, but had promised not to tell his brother. Dean would never understand; he saw things too much in black and white. Dean was the only person that had any measure of faith in Sam and the younger hunter was absolutely petrified of losing that faith, of having his brother look at him like he was a monster. It was already happening, he could see that, but until now Dean had kept it to himself. Tonight had been the first time his brother had openly admitted his fear of Sam going darkside.

Sam was near panic mode by the time he saw Dean emerge from the house and stride quickly towards the Impala.

As his brother got in, Sam noticed the look of thunder on his face and the stiffness of his shoulders. Reading each other's body language came as second nature to the brothers and Sam didn't need any words to know something huge was bothering Dean.

_Chuck had told him about the blood._ _He knew._

Sam scrambled for the right words to say as Dean started up the engine and yanked the Impala out into traffic, never once looking directly at his younger sibling. Sam had no idea where to start because he knew Dean wouldn't listen to his reasoning anyway. He was still scrambling when Dean spoke first, an unmistakable tenseness in his voice.

"Look Sam, I'm gonna drop you off in Bloomington, okay? Then you're gonna have to find your own way to Bobby in Montana."

Sam's heart literally skipped a beat then came back with a painful pounding in his chest. _Dean was leaving him!_ After a lifetime of caring for him and protecting him, Dean was washing his hands of the monster Sam had become. "Look, Dean, I can explain…" he stammered.

If Dean had been thinking clearly, if his wits weren't quite so smothered in guilt, he may have picked up on the admission of some wrongdoing Sam had just let slip. As it was, his brother's words didn't even register. He glanced over at the frantic man in the passenger seat, only making eye contact for a split second before returning his gaze to the road.

"Red-Eyes is real, Sam. We…" He let the sentence drop, knowing there was no need to spell out what they had done. "I have to go to California. Get her out."

Sam processed the words in stunned silence. Red-Eyes was real. That meant Chuck hadn't told Dean anything about the demon blood. A huge wave of relief swept over Sam, followed by a small measure of guilt for feeling it. If Red-Eyes was real, then they had been very wrong about Alex and had put her in a potentially very bad situation.

They had met Alex and Josh Brenton last year to discover the pair of siblings had spent years running from a sadistic monster that had been stalking Alex. Turns out she was a 'sensitive' and had a psychic perception of supernatural creatures – and they of her. Josh was caught by the authorities a few months after that and thrown in Fort Worth Prison and the brothers had spent a week with Alex, during which time she and Dean had become very close. If Sam was to describe it, he would use the L-word.

Upon further investigation and after being approached by the girl's Psychiatrist uncle, Sam had discovered the monster she simply called 'Red-Eyes' wasn't real after all. It was complicated, but it turned out she suffered from Persecutory Delusional Disorder combined with Schizophrenia and Self-Injurious Behavior. Sam and Bobby had watched the evidence on the security footage of her uncle's psychiatric hospital and along with all the other evidence they had compiled, had finally convinced Dean to let them call her uncle have her committed involuntarily to his facility in California. So the news that Red-Eyes was indeed real was indeed a very unfortunate shock.

"Has Red-Eyes found her?" Sam asked his brother with genuine concern.

The look Dean spared him answered the question without words. Yes, he most definitely had. "But the videos…" Sam said in confusion, his own stomach knotting up at the repercussions of their mistake. Correction, _**his**_ mistake. He had been the one to go through the information Alex's uncle had given him. Dean never even would have questioned the girl's sanity had he not pushed the evidence on the older hunter. But the evidence had been so very convincing and therefore so very damning to Alex. He didn't understand how it could have been wrong but decided now was not the time to press his brother for details.

"It's a pretty secure facility," he said matter-of-factly. "I'll come with you. You'll need help getting her out."

Dean shook his head. "No. Bobby needs help with that cleansing in Billings. I'll take care of it and meet you at his place in a few days."

Sam knew Dean felt this was his responsibility. He knew the older hunter was completely blaming himself for the mistake, even though it was anybody's fault _but_ his. But Sam knew his brother well enough to know there was no point in arguing with him. The pair sat in silence for a minute, each weighing their own culpability in Alex's current situation. Finally, Dean turned to Sam.

"So, dude, what the Hell happened with Lillith?"

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_So she's not crazy after all – I had to kick Dean while he was down *evil laugh* Just the first couple of chapters deal with the repercussions of the Winchesters' mistake with the Brentons (i.e. Dean's rescue attempt) then the hunt starts up in full swing. This is a big story, with high stakes, a high hurt!Dean quotient, plenty of Bobby and Cas, friendship, brotherly angst as well as brotherly love, ... oh, and not everybody will live through it. Please let me know what you think :-)_

_I will be posting every couple of days so very frequent updates._


	2. That's For Calling Her a Loon

CHAPTER 2 - That's for Calling Her a Loon

_**Oceanview Psychiatric Facility, California**_

_**May 2009**_ (Season 4)

Marcie blew her bangs out of her face in frustration as she pecked away at the keyboard, wishing for the umpteenth time that she could type with more than two fingers. Normally she would have given the menial task of entering the new patient information into the computer at the second floor nurse's station to the trainee, but nineteen year old Dani '_with an i'_ was nowhere to be found. _Probably off flirting with that leech of a security guard Stan again. _Marcie grumbled to herself that the girl had better be back here in ten minutes to start the ten-thirty PM rounds with her or she may have to follow through on her previous threat to write her up.

She heard a noise above her and became aware of someone leaning on the counter of the station. She jerked her head up, about to give her slacker of a trainee a piece of her mind but quickly reigned in her tongue. It wasn't Dani standing there but a stunningly attractive man peering down at her with gorgeous green eyes and a very disarming smile. She had never seen him around before but noticed the hospital doctor's ID tag pinned to his white staff coat. Her tongue, however, seemed to be taking its embarrassing time untangling itself and the man ended up speaking first.

"Hi…" he threw a quick look at her nametag "…Marcie. I'm Doctor Ulrich. I'm here for a few days to do a consult with Dr. Dennison on a patient of his and I thought I'd introduce myself to her before we get started. Can you tell me what room Alexis Brenton is in?"

"I'm sorry," she replied, relieved with herself for managing to sound at least semi-professional. "That's not going to be possible, I'm afraid."

He leaned both elbows onto the counter and added a slight pout to his smile. "Oh, really? But lights out isn't until eleven, no? I'll only be five minutes."

She smiled back apologetically, brushing her bangs out of her face and suddenly feeling smug that tall, busty Dani wasn't here. The man was probably at least ten years her junior but there was no harm in looking now, was there? "I'm sorry, doctor," she said, "But Dr. Dennison is very strict where his niece is concerned. Absolutely no visitors unless he accompanies them. Poor soul's not doing very well, as you probably know."

Dean hid his flinch with a casual glance towards the elevators. Turning back to the nurse, he dialed up the charm a notch. He could usually play the forty-somethings without breaking a sweat. "Well, Marcie, could I get a quick look at her file, please? I'd like to get up to speed before I meet with Bryce tomorrow."

This guy knew he was good-looking, Marcie thought, taking in the smoothness of his voice and the confident smile. Her hand subconsciously went back to her hair as she bit back a smile at the thought of the reaction of the morning shift girls seeing him walking in with Dr. Bryce 'McSteamy' Dennison, also an attractive specimen.

"I'm sorry again, doctor," she winced in sincere apology. "All the patient files are kept in the attending doctor's office. You just missed Dr. Dennison as a matter of fact. He left not ten minutes ago."

"Oh, that's too bad," Dean lied. He had actually waited outside in the Impala until he had seen Dennison exit the building and get into his Mercedes before he had come inside. He had only met Alex's Uncle Bryce in person for a few short moments over three months ago but couldn't take the risk of being recognized. "I guess I'll catch up with him in the morning then." He gave Marcie a wink. "Just so I know, his office is…."

"Third floor," Marcie offered helpfully. "He likes to stay in close proximity to his patients."

Dean said goodnight and headed for the stairs. Instead of heading down, however, he sprinted up one more flight to the third floor. He figured if Alex was on the third floor as Marcie had implied, it shouldn't be that hard to find her. He could just walk the halls looking in those little glass windows in the doors until he spotted the blonde. The tense knot in his stomach tightened at the thought of coming face to face with her, a moment he was seriously dreading at this point. If he was being honest, he would rather meet a Wendigo in the hallway right now than have to look Lex in the eye after what he had done.

The third floor hallway turned out to be Wendigo-free and, thankfully, hospital staff-free also. He turned left coming out of the stairwell, starting his door to door check. He stopped short outside the third door, a solid oak one with the name 'Dr. Bryce Dennison' engraved on a gold plaque, slightly surprised at his unusual stroke of luck. With a watchful glance in each direction, he whipped out his lockpick and within a minute was rummaging through the files in Dennison's lushly-furnished office.

The files were in alphabetical order so the one marked 'Brenton, A.' was near the front and easy to find. Dean flipped quickly through it, searching for anything with a room number. He found a page titled 'Incident Report' with a reference at the top to room 3178. Slamming the file shut he was about to shove it back in the cabinet when he changed his mind and instead stuffed it into the inside pocket of the doctor's coat he had stolen from an Audi in the parking lot this afternoon. He slipped out of the office and moved on down the hallway, searching the numbers for 3178.

He was just a few doors farther down the first hallway when he heard a shout from the direction of the elevators behind him.

"Hoy! Doc!"

He turned to see a security guard waving as he half-walked half-jogged towards Dean, being careful not to spill the coffee in his hand. He was in his mid-twenties, well-built, with short, electric-trimmer-cut hair. As he neared the hunter, Dean could make out what looked suspiciously like a prison tat peeking out of his brown security shirt sleeve, snaking its way along the thumb and forefinger wrapped around the hot coffee.

"Hey Doc." The guard greeted him in a friendly enough tone but made a show of looking at Dean's ID tag. "You new here?"

Dean didn't sweat the scrutiny of the ID. He had lifted it from a pencil-necked doctor getting into his Saab this afternoon and had switched the name and picture before re-laminating it at a nearby Kinko's. It would hold up.

"I'm just here on a special consult." Dean kept up the story he had given Marcie downstairs.

"That's cool, but dude, you're not on the list."

_Shit. There was a list?_ Dean glanced at the guard's nametag, which read 'Stan', as he straightened his shoulders. John Winchester's undercover rule number six. Or maybe it was seven. Either way, it was to stay on the offensive. Fairly sure an overly-educated PH-frickin'-D wouldn't appreciate being called 'dude' by a rent-a-cop, Dean raised an eyebrow at the guard, adopting a perfect air of condescending annoyance. He had been on the receiving end of that very same attitude countless times in his life and knew it well. "List?"

"Yeah, you haven't taken the security orientation."

Stan seemed amicable and Dean decided not to instigate a pissing contest. "I'm only here for a few days at the request of Dr. Dennison. And I'm only here to see one patient," he insisted politely.

"Oh? Which one?"

"Alexis Brenton," Dean told him, figuring he could at least help speed up his search. "Can you tell me where her room is?"

Stan rolled his eyes and snorted. "If you're here to see Houdini-girl, then you definitely need the orientation." He hooked his hand behind the 'doctor's' elbow and ushered him towards a door by the elevator marked 'security'. "It'll only take a few minutes, Doc."

As they entered the small room, a large, middle-aged black man sitting in front of a row of monitors exaggeratedly looked at his watch. "Wow, you're actually early for once, Stan," he said, looking up in time to see Dean follow the younger guard in. "Oh, hi there Doc," he greeted him more politely.

Stan made the introductions. "Doc, this is Pete, night shift security supervisor. Pete, this here's uh…" he bent to read Dean's ID again, "Doctor Ulll-rich. He's here to see if he can fix the loose screws in our favourite resident, Alex." '_Favourite'_ was said with more than a little bit of sarcasm.

Pete gave Dean a sincere smile. "Well, good luck to you, Doc." He nodded towards the end monitor in a row of six along the left wall. Dean followed his nod to the monitors that showed six rooms with nothing but a bed on the far wall and a single patient in each. On the end monitor, the hunter saw Alex sitting calmly on the end of her bed, a book in her hand. "She needs all the help she can get," Pete continued.

Swallowing hard to contain his sudden rush of emotion at setting eyes on the blonde, Dean turned to Pete. "Why do you say that?"

"Coz she's a friggin' loon!" Stan offered with a loud snort. Dean's jaw clenched and both hands fisted but he managed to keep his cool.

Pete gave his co-worker a disapproving glare. "Sorry Doc. There's a reason Stan here's on the night shift."

Stan was apparently oblivious to his superior's reprimand and Dean's tense stance because he continued his candid assessment of 'Patient Brenton'. "Trust me Doc, don't let the looks fool you. She'll con you, sweet talk you, or just plain slug you before you can even say hello. Trust me I know."

Pete sighed. "Stan here has a bit of a personal beef with your patient. He got in the way of one of her escape attempts."

"Bitch knocked me out cold with a cafeteria chair!" Stan chimed in. "I got seventeen stitches and she just got sent back to her room," he huffed at the apparent injustice. "She made it right out to the road that day before they tackled her," he chuckled unpleasantly with a shake of his head. "Then there's the two times she managed to get herself out of full wrist and ankle restraints. That's just freaky, man."

"She try to escape often?" Dean asked, directing the question solely at Pete and trying to push away the nauseating thought of Alex being trapped in full restraints when Red-Eyes showed up.

"Every chance she gets." It was Stan who answered again. "Only now her new thing is to kick up a fuss at night so bad that the orderlies have to come in and sedate her. See if you can figure that one out, Doc."

Dean had it figured out already. If Alex was sedated, she wouldn't wake up. Since Red-Eyes fed off her pain, if she was sleeping and didn't feel anything, it stood to reason he wouldn't bother her. It made perfect sense. Perfect, sad sense.

"Hopefully you can do some good 'cause she's a sweet girl and it ain't right her wastin' away in a place like this," Pete offered with a genuine look of pity.

Dean appreciated Pete's sincerity and listened intently as the older man started his instruction on the hospital security protocol, figuring the information could actually come in very handy for his later escape with Alex. As it turned out, the 'D' wing of the third floor was the high security wing and was under constant lockdown. Patient Brenton's room was on that wing, mostly due to her repeated escape attempts rather than any violent tendencies or danger towards others. Pete was in the process of explaining the different protocols to be followed on each wing of every floor when he suddenly jumped up, looking at the end monitor across the room.

"Damnit, Stan! Here we go again."

Dean followed his gaze to Alex's monitor but instead of sitting on the edge of her bed, she was now on the floor, pushing her way frantically towards the wall with her bare feet, a terrified look on her face. He could hear Pete barking into his handheld radio as the large man moved surprisingly quickly towards the door.

"Orderlies to Patient Brenton's room; she's having an episode. I repeat, get to Alex's room. Now!"

Dean spun around and followed Pete, beating Stan out the door. The look on Stan's face was more one of annoyance than any motivation to help and Dean's urgency to stay on Pete's heels and get to Alex's room was the only thing that prevented him from decking the son of a bitch right there.

Chuck had said Red-Eyes could manipulate video feeds, so Dean had no idea what had actually been going on in Alex's room when they had seen her casually sitting on the end of her bed. He cursed himself for not getting there sooner and wished Pete would run faster. They ran down three hallways and through a locked gate at the end of a fourth before reaching the hallway with room 3178. Dean could tell it was the right hall because there was a lot of commotion coming out of an open door about half way down and he could make out Alex's voice yelling "No!" repeatedly. No longer needing the guide, he sprinted past Pete, grabbing the door jamb to slow himself as he dashed into the room, stopping only momentarily to assess the situation.

There were three people in the room besides Alex. An older, stern-looking nurse barking orders and two male orderlies who had the struggling girl flanked and were dragging her towards the bed in the corner. They all had their backs towards the door and Alex was pleading as she fought to free herself from the large orderlies, "No, please, no! No restraints!" Dean noticed there were leather straps on each side of the bed and the panic in Alex's voice instantly launched him into action.

He grabbed one of the orderlies by the shoulder, spinning him around just in time to receive the hunter's fist in the face. Dean was delivering a quick follow-up punch when he heard Pete behind him.

"No Doc! Don't interfere!"

He winced when he felt a firm hand pulling at his doctor's coat and grudgingly turned and gave the friendly guard a sharp jab to the jaw, enough to send him reeling into the wall behind him but nothing that would do any serious damage. By this time, however, the orderly had recovered and launched himself at Dean, shouldering him into the wall next to Pete and landing a solid punch in the hunter's gut. Dean fought back and quickly got the upper hand, forcing the orderly to his knees with repeated blows to the big guy's face. Pete came at him again so he gave the older man a hard shove, still not wanting to hurt him if he could help it. As he shoved him away, however, he saw Stan charging in through the door.

The younger guard made a surprisingly quick assessment of the situation and went right for Dean, attempting a restraining maneuver by grabbing at his wrist. Dean took advantage of the fact that Stan had clearly underestimated the 'doctor's' fighting skills and avoided the hold easily, paying him back with a hard blow to the face. Unlike with Pete, he didn't hold back and actually enjoyed the satisfying feel of pain shooting through his knuckles as the hit connected.

But Stan wasn't the only one underestimating his opponent. The young guard must have picked up his fighting skills in prison because he took the punch in stride and fired back with three successive punches to Dean's abdomen before the hunter managed to bring his knee up in Stan's groin. The guard staggered backwards and doubled over with a howl.

With his back against the wall and gasping for air, Dean looked up to see Pete and the orderly he had punched advancing on him, spreading out into what seemed more like a coordinated attack.

_Screw this._ He reached behind him, up under the stolen doctor's coat, and pulled out the Beretta he had tucked away at the small of his back. He held it out in front of him, swinging it back and forth between the two guards and the orderly. He already had murder and armed robbery charges against him so even if the feds did figure out he wasn't dead, a couple of extra charges weren't gonna make a difference.

"That's enough!" he barked, thankful they all stopped dead in their tracks.

Pete raised his hands. "Whoa there Doc, take it easy!"

Dean jerked the gun to the side, indicating that they all move aside so he could see what was going on with Alex behind them. They shuffled warily to the side wall, Stan still leaning forward and clutching himself in obvious pain.

Dean looked past them to see the second orderly still had a strong hold of Alex, his thick arm wrapped over her shoulder and around her head, exposing her throat to the nurse who had, much to Dean's alarm, just finished depressing the plunger of a syringe into the blonde's neck.

"Hey! Hey, what's that?" he asked, slightly panicked.

"It's a sedative," the nurse scowled, not seeming very intimidated by the gun now pointed at her. "To calm her down," she added primly.

Dean watched Alex's eyes roll up in her head and her knees buckle slightly as she leaned into the white-clad orderly still holding her up. The burly man shifted his grasp from one of restraint and pulled the girl's arm over his shoulder instead to support her, though he was now looking warily at Dean. Alex's head swayed slightly before slumping forward. Dean cursed as he realized she definitely wouldn't be walking out of here.

He waved the nurse over towards the three men standing along the wall on his right while trying to figure out what his next move should be. To say this was not going as smoothly as planned was an understatement.

"Okay. Keys, cell phones, and radios, on the bed. Now," he ordered. "That includes you," he added to the orderly with Alex. Despite the grumbling and complaints from his captives, four cell phones, two radios, and five sets of keys were tossed on the bed. Dean quickly pocketed all the keys and one of the radios, tossing the rest of the confiscated technology out the door into the hallway.

With the gun still pointed at his prisoners, he swung himself up under Alex's free arm, sliding her away from the orderly and ordering him to stand with the rest.

"You're not a doctor, are you?" Pete asked him.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Think about what you're doing, son," the older guard persisted as Dean made his way towards the door. "The girl needs help."

"I _am_ helping her," Dean snapped. "What she needs is to get the Hell away from here."

"Dude, you're so screwed," Stan pitched in, seeming to have regained his nerve and attitude and clearly not pleased at having a gun pointed at him. His approach at convincing the armed kidnapper to stop what he was doing, however, differed drastically from Pete's.

"She's Dennison's niece, you moron! He _owns_ this place. You can't seriously think you're gonna get away with this!" Dean ignored him as he backed out the door.

"There's easier ways to get a fucken piece of tail, man!"

Dean stopped in the doorway and lowered the gun. "C'mere Stan."

A flash of unease crossed Stan's face but he walked forward, his prison instinct of _'never back down'_ probably being the motivating factor behind the foolish move. As soon as he stepped up to Dean, who had swapped the Beretta to the hand currently supporting Alex, the hunter smashed his fist into the guard's nose. Satisfied with the yelp of pain and the stream of blood he saw running down Stan's face, Dean switched the Beretta back to his free hand and grinned. "That's for calling her a loon, you prick." With that he backed into the hallway and slammed the door shut.

Thankfully the hallway was empty. He fumbled one-handed to find the right key to lock the door, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally heard the dead-bolt slide into place. He had Alex's arm over his shoulder and her feet were on the floor but she was pretty out of it and wasn't supporting much of her own weight so he tucked his right hand with the gun under her knees and lifted, deciding it would be quicker to just carry her.

Guessing which way the stairwell was, he walked briskly to the end of the hallway. The stairwell door, however, was locked. He swore to himself as he remembered from Pete's security orientation that all exits from this wing were kept locked. He let Alex's feet drop to the ground, wrapping his arm around her waist to hold her up as he used his free hand to again fumble with keys. This time he got the right one on only the third try and swung the stairwell door open, picking the girl back up again before slipping quickly inside and down the stairs.

He only got down one flight, however, when he heard voices and footsteps below him. He heard a voice surrounded by static coming out of someone's radio.

"_He has a female hostage, I repeat, he's taken a female patient. Watch out - he's armed!"_

Dean cursed himself again. One of the five people he had locked up in the room had obviously held on to either a radio or a cell phone. Security and staff had been alerted and the police were no doubt on their way. _What else could go wrong?_ He slipped out of the stairwell into the second floor hallway which was mercifully empty. Avoiding Marcie's desk and heading straight for the back of the building's east wing, he decided to try and slip out the rear stairs. Those would lead him directly into the staff parking lot and closer to where the Impala was parked on the small street.

He clicked on the radio he had stolen from Stan and flicked through the channels until he found the one security was using. A little heads up on what they were up to couldn't hurt, after all.

Alex seemed partially awake but he couldn't tell how much she was aware of as they made their way quickly down the long, bleak hallway. She had wrapped her arms around his neck obediently and rested her head calmly against his shoulder but on the occasions he had glanced down at her face, her eyes were either closed or held a bleary, vacant expression. _Sedative my ass. More like a friggin' horse tranquilizer._

With a small stroke of luck, he found the back stairwell empty and silent. He sprinted down the two flights of stairs and was just reaching for the handle of the metal door at the bottom when it swung inward swiftly, almost hitting him in the face. He stepped back quickly, turning sideways to get Alex out of harm's way also. He looked back to find himself face to face with Dr. Bryce Dennison.

Dean dropped Alex's feet to the ground again, holding her up against his side as before, and raised his free arm with the Beretta out towards the doctor. "Out of my way, Dennison."

Dennison had obviously been apprised of the situation but didn't move out of the way. Quite the opposite, in fact. He pushed the door shut behind him and raised his hands in a gesture of peace as he subtly planted himself in front of it, all the while never taking his eyes off his niece nor her supposed captor. "Listen, son, let's not do anything hasty here."

"Hasty? This is three months overdue. Now move or I shoot."

Dennison still didn't budge. "I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm letting my niece get taken anywhere by a thug with a gun. Just put Lexie down and you can go."

Dean had to give the man credit; he had expected the pansy-ass shrink to give in right away at the sight of the gun. He shook his head in reply to the offer. "She's getting out of here tonight, even if I have to shoot you to make it happen," he warned.

"She needs our help, son. She needs to get better."

"But she's not getting better, is she?" Dean snapped, taking note of the tiny hint of doubt that flickered across Dennison's face at his accusation. "You lied," he spat at the doctor. "I called you every week!"

The doctor's shoulders relaxed a tiny fraction as recognition filled his eyes. "Dean."

"Yeah, remember me?" Dean had indeed slipped away from Sam every week and privately made a quick call to Dennison to check on Alex. He wasn't sure why he had felt the need to keep the inquiries from his brother, but he felt stupid now for believing Dennison's lies. Maybe he had let himself believe too easily because hearing them helped ease the guilt he felt about his role in the girl's situation. He couldn't forget the look on her face when her uncle had come for her and she had realized that Dean had turned her in. That look had found its way to his already horrendous nightmares and believing she was getting better had helped... a little.

Dean vented his anger at the doctor standing before him. "Every time I called you told me that she was doing good and was, how did you put it?..._'coming to terms with her illness'_. What a load of bull! You can't honestly say you believe she's better off now than she was before you locked her up! Even you're not that dense."

Alex's uncle glanced at her with what seemed like genuine concern. Her head was slumped sideways and her eyes were closed as she leaned back against Dean, still supported by his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. "I'll admit that she's not doing as well as we had hoped," Dennison said slowly. "There have been….complications."

"Like she keeps getting the crap kicked out of her kind of complications?" Dean had had enough. He made a show of flicking the safety on then off quickly, just to generate that ominous clicking noise that seemed to scare civilians silly, and raised the gun to Dennison's face. "For the last time, move or I'll shoot you."

"You obviously care about Lexie," Dennison persisted. "You're not going to shoot her only uncle."

Dean had to hand it to the guy; he was stubborn. "You're right," he conceded. He flipped the gun around and rammed the handle into the side of the doctor's head. He watched the man slump to the ground unconscious before scooping Alex up again. "I won't _shoot_ you," he sneered as he rolled Dennison out of the way with his foot so he could get the door open and made his way quickly out into the parking lot.

He skirted the perimeter, keeping to the shadows and easily avoiding the lone guard he could see combing the area with a flashlight. Fortunately, the hospital was located in a very picturesque oceanfront landscape a bit out of town so the police hadn't made it there yet. He squeezed through the hedge to the road where the Impala was parked, faithfully waiting to whisk her owner out of yet another sticky situation.

He opened the passenger door and hastily shoved Alex into Sam's seat before running around to the driver's side and hopping in. He jerked the car out onto the road in the direction opposite of the one he guessed the police would be coming from. He reached the highway incident free and breathed out in relief as he merged into the traffic heading southwest, figuring any pursuit would assume he would go either north or east.

After driving for at least half an hour, when he was confident they were free and clear, Dean turned onto one of the back roads that would loop them around to the I-80 East to take him towards Bobby's. On a quiet, dark stretch of country road, he gently coasted his baby onto the shoulder, coming to a slow stop. Alex looked asleep but he figured he should check on her and at least fasten her seat belt. He stepped out into the warm night air and walked around to her side, opening her door with its familiar creak and throwing his hand forward to stop her from toppling out. As he pushed her upright by the shoulder, she stirred slightly, looking like she might be waking up.

He crouched down by her open door and felt her pulse, finding no cause for alarm. The nurse had likely been telling the truth and it had merely been a sedative they had given her. She rolled her head towards him, eyelids fluttering in repeated attempts to open.

"Lex? You awake?"

He was pulling at the seat belt, loosening it enough to wrap around her, by the time she answered him. "Josh?" she said groggily, her eyes not quite focused.

"Sorry Sunshine, it's just me, Dean," he answered gently, reaching over her to fasten the belt.

"No," she whispered, looking confused. "Not Dean. He…he put me in there…_with him_." Her eyes shut and her head lolled sideways again as she fell back asleep.

Her last two words were barely audible but she may as well have screamed them at Dean at the top of her lungs. Or, more accurately, etched them onto a four inch blade and thrust it hilt-deep into his chest. That would better account for the stabbing pain of guilt he felt and the difficulty he had taking his next few breaths. He stayed crouched outside her door for a long moment in stony silence before finally standing up, closing it gently, and walking stiffly back to the driver's side.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_TBC..._

_Next up: What will Alex's reaction be when she wakes up? Will she forgive Dean or try to beat the snot out of him?... BTW, just for kicks, did recognize the significance of Alex's room number?_


	3. You Should Leave Her a Huge Tip

_This chapter wasn't in my original rough notes - I had planned on skipping right to the hunt but decided I needed to delve a little into Alex's state of mind after her ordeal and (of course) work on Dean's guilt a little._

CHAPTER 3 - You Should Leave Her a Huge Tip

Dean drove all night in silence, the Impala's throaty rumble the only sound as they headed north on the I-80 through Nevada towards Bobby's place. He had only stopped once for gas near the California border, wanting to get out of the state as quickly as possible with a fugitive on board. About an hour after dawn, he noticed the roadside sign advertising food and gas at the next exit and realized he would need to gas up again soon.

His gaze flickered over to Alex, whose head still rested on the passenger window, and he realized with a start that her eyes were open. He wondered how long she had been awake. She hadn't moved or even turned her head to look at him and she was now simply staring out at the dreary Nevada landscape.

Fairly certain she wasn't yet aware he knew she was awake, he decided to play dumb in an effort to avoid an actual conversation. After only a couple of minutes, however, he felt foolish and awkward. They had another sixteen hours or so to go before they got to Bobby's; he was going to have to say something eventually. _Don't be such a coward_ _Dean_, he chastised himself.

He turned towards her. "You're awake," he said, trying to sound casual. _Nothing like stating the obvious – real smooth genius._

She rolled her head slightly towards him, never lifting it off Sammy's window. She met his gaze for only a second before returning her attention to the dusty countryside zooming by. "Yeah," she said quietly.

Dean didn't detect any animosity or anger in her words. Slightly encouraged by this, he kept talking. "There's a truck stop with a diner and a tourist shop up ahead," he told her. "What do you say we stop for a bite?"

She shrugged. "Okay."

"I'll pick you up some clothes in the shop; you can't exactly go into the diner in that." He nodded his head towards the pale green hospital outfit she was still wearing. "I need gas anyway; my baby may be a beauty but she sure has one hell of an appetite."

He was hoping for a smile but wasn't surprised when he didn't get one.

"Okay," she simply repeated.

"Okay then," he agreed, nodding his head. Unable to think of anything else to say, he turned his attention back to the road and the car was heavy with silence for the few minutes until they rolled down the off-ramp and into the parking lot of the diner and store. He parked on the far end of the row of cars.

"I'll go get you something to wear," he told her, practically jumping out of the car. "I'll be right back, 'kay?" She just nodded.

He strolled around the store for about ten minutes before returning to the driver's side of the Impala, leaning in his own window and handing her the bag across the seat. He'd managed to find a pair of Battle Mountain Motocross sweats, an '_I love my Motorcycle_' t-shirt, a three-pack of cotton underwear that came in a plastic bag, and a pair of flip-flops for her bare feet. She took it wordlessly and pushed open her door. As she got out, he pointed her in the direction of the gas station washroom, which was thankfully round the quiet side of the building where nobody would likely see her in her current attire. "It's around there – there's no key, it should be open. I'll wait for you in the diner."

She looked at him over the car roof, holding his gaze for the first time and offered him a weak smile. "Thanks," she said quietly before turning to walk away.

Four words and half a smile. He didn't seem to be doing very well. Dean was determined to make some progress over breakfast. He sighed heavily as he thought to himself that this part so should have been Sammy's gig.

Fifteen minutes later he was still sitting in a diner booth by himself, looking anxiously at the front door. Had she split? Taken off on him? He couldn't really blame her if she had, but where would she go? Josh would still be in jail for at least another month and, as far as Dean was aware, the pair didn't have anyone else to turn to. She had no money and no ID and her uncle had no doubt put out the order to bring her back in. He was about to get up and go looking for her when he saw her step in through the front doors, glancing nervously around the busy diner in search of him. He was heartened to see a slight look of relief on her face when she spotted him but that all disappeared as he watched her walk towards his booth.

It was the first chance he'd had to get a good look at her in the daylight since the chaos of their escape from Oceanview. She was limping slightly and had a nasty set of two or three-day old bruises all down her right arm and another on the right side of her face. The sweats he had picked up had been a size small but even so they seemed to hang off her thin frame. She had always been slim but athletically so; now she was just skinny, gaunt even. But that wasn't what caught his breath. The worst thing was her eyes. The sparkle he remembered so vividly from the time they had spent together months ago was gone. He wasn't sure what he saw in them now; sadness, fear maybe. No determination, no fight, no Bon Jovi quoting glass-half-full attitude. _No Lex_.

She slid into the seat across the booth from him and picked up the menu, still only gracing him with a minimal amount of eye contact.

"Well, I'm having a bacon double cheeseburger," he announced cheerily. He had always been good at putting up a front.

The waitress stepped up at that very moment. "For breakfast?" she grinned at Dean, overtly taking in his good looks the way many women did. The observant hunter, accustomed to the once-overs, guessed she was probably in her mid-thirties but the years had been rough on her and she looked older. He smiled back.

"It's five o'clock somewhere," he joked, handing her his menu.

She nodded in approval and turned to Alex. "And how 'bout you sweetheart?"

Alex closed her menu and handed it to the waitress. "The same, thanks."

The waitress's smile disappeared as she took the second menu. She shot an angry glance at Dean before turning back to Alex. "You want fries or a salad with that, hon?" she asked with excessive kindness, clearly having noticed the bruises on Alex's arm and cheek.

"Salad," Alex answered. "And a glass of water, please."

"Sure thing." The waitress turned to leave, giving Dean another sharp glare.

"I'll have fries with mine, thanks," Dean called out sarcastically as she walked away. "And a coffee, black." He shook his head in annoyance. "That's nerve. Why does everyone always jump to the abusive boyfriend conclusion?" he griped, starting to worry about what 'extra ingredients' he may be served in his burger.

Alex's attention was on her napkin, which she was currently folding into some sort of origami shape. "Josh always tips them more if they give him shit," she said quietly. "Says it shows good character on their part."

_Okay, that had to be at least a dozen words_. _Progress_.

It had never occurred to Dean before that this type of misunderstanding had probably been a frequent occurrence with Alex and Josh. Somehow it didn't surprise him that emo-boy Joshua actually admired people who stuck up for a suspected abused girl rather than getting offended that they jumped to the wrong conclusion in the first place. The fact that Alex's first real sentence had been about her brother wasn't lost on the hunter either and Dean thought he may be the key to getting her to start talking.

"Josh should be getting out of jail in a month or so," he said, trying to sound optimistic. "Sam used that hacker shit from your laptop to find out that he's gonna be up for parole in about five weeks. Knowing your brother, he'll have the parole board finding their inner Zen and scrambling over each other to let him out," he grinned, honestly believing that part to be the truth.

Just a nod from Lex.

"I'm gonna take you to Bobby's in South Dakota," he offered. "He'll know what to do in the meantime."

This time he got a shrug.

"Sammy's there now."

Another nod.

"Stubborn kid tried to take on Lillith a couple of days ago. Almost got himself killed."

Alex looked up sharply at him at that comment, a vague hint of genuine concern on her face though Dean found it hard to read any actual emotions from her now.

"He's fine," he assured her quickly, touched that she was still worried about his brother despite everything.

She nodded again and returned her attention to her napkin, which was starting to resemble either a wilting flower or a very scraggly palm tree.

Dean sighed. This was like pulling teeth. Why wasn't she angry? He would rather have her yelling at him and hitting him and cursing him for betraying her and screwing her over than giving him the silent treatment. He could deal with being chewed out. He could deal with pissed. He could deal with her throwing the cheap diner knife at him. Hell, he had expected it. But this, the silent and withdrawn thing, was way out of his league. Growing up, when Sam had been upset or bothered or emotional, Dean just had to say _'what's wrong?'_ and the kid would be spilling his guts, pouring his heart out. Granted, that didn't seem to be the case anymore, but the old Sam had always seemed to feel better after he got things off his chest.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Dean, patience not being one of his stronger suits, decided to wake the elephant at the table. He reached over and brushed the back of his finger lightly across her bruised cheek. "I take it Red-Eyes did that?" he asked softly.

She pulled back quickly, a surprised look on her face. He wasn't sure if she was reacting to the question or the physical contact.

After a few seconds, she nodded slowly and mouthed 'yeah' but no real sound came out.

"How often did he come?" Dean asked, retracting his hand but forcing the issue. She had told him before that in the years Josh had been away at college and she was alone much of the time, Red-Eyes had come once or twice a week. He was guessing her time at Oceanview had a similar track record.

She looked uncomfortable and her eyes scanned the diner, darting back and forth in hesitation, looking everywhere else before finally settling on Dean's hazel ones. "Once or twice a day," she said in barely more than a whisper.

Dean stifled a gasp by biting his lip, a renewed rush of guilt sweeping over him. Three and a half months of daily torture? He of all people could relate to that. Granted hers wasn't constant or never-ending and her months were real months, not ten years apiece, but he could relate to the pain, the fear, and the dread of the next round. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, opening them to find her looking away again. "Lex. I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry, I screwed up and…"

She raised her hand and gestured for him to stop. "Don't," she said, cutting him off sharply though she sounded more scared than angry. "Don't. Please, not now. I can't…I just...I just can't have this conversation right now." She seemed to have drained the small drop of energy she had exhibited and her voice broke by the end of the sentence as she slumped back in the bench seat and swallowed hard, her hand crumpling the napkin artwork into a tiny ball.

Dean was saved from having to respond by the waitress returning to their table with their meals and their drinks. She dumped Dean's plate unceremoniously in front of him before squeezing Alex's shoulder gently. "Can I get you anything else, hon?"

Alex managed an almost convincing smile. "No thanks, I'm fine."

The woman didn't even bother to hide her disbelieving snort as she glared at Dean, not asking if he needed anything before walking stiffly away. He decided to wait until she was gone to steal the ketchup from the empty table next to them rather than ask her for some. He wasn't in the mood for an argument with a self-righteous waitress with a bad attitude.

They ate their meals in silence, neither seeming to have much of an appetite. Alex only picked at her salad, leaving most of her burger on the plate. Their waitress slapped the bill on the table in front of Dean as she cleared the plates and slipped a second piece of paper to Alex, giving her another squeeze of the shoulder as she did so. Dean pulled out his wallet, ignoring the woman's scowl as she walked away. Alex glanced at the paper and slid it across the table to Dean.

"You should leave her a huge tip," she said, scooting out of the booth and heading towards the door.

Dean picked the paper up and turned it over to see scrawled handwriting.

'_If you need ANYTHING, you just call 775-555-5283, day or night. My door's always open. - Jill'_

He growled but pulled out an extra twenty and slapped it on the table. He grudgingly agreed that the world would be a better place if more people were willing to stick their necks out for strangers. Jill's intentions were good, if seriously misguided. Surely he could forgive that.

Alex was already sitting in the Impala by the time he reached it. He wordlessly pulled it over to the pump, filled the tank, and roared back onto the highway. He didn't try to make small talk and definitely didn't bring up the subject of Red-Eyes or his mistake again. In fact, the conversation for the entire sixteen hour drive was limited to quick suggestions regarding drive-thru meals and restroom stops. If he had thought that long drive back to the Roadhouse with Ellen after they had been busted using Jo for bait was awkward, this was much worse.

Wasn't Lex curious why he had come for her? How he had found out Red-Eyes was real after all? Why he had put her in Oceanview to start with? She never used to hesitate to ask about anything. He remembered her grilling Cas about God and Jesus and how much she had annoyed Ruby with her endless questions. She slept most of the way, curled up in Sam's seat and Dean wondered how a relatively tall girl could possibly fold herself into such a small bundle. He was used to Sam sitting there, the incredible hulk who could barely fit his ginormous legs under the Impala's front console.

He had pulled over at one point near Cheyenne and climbed in the back seat for a couple of hours of shut-eye. She hadn't even suggested she drive while he slept. Before, she had pestered him constantly for a shot behind the wheel of his baby and had laughed cheerily at his adamant and often colourful refusals. He would have said no again this time also, remembering Bobby's grumbled warnings about her lead foot, but it would have been a good sign if she had at least asked.

They pulled into Singer Auto Salvage around midnight and both Sam and Bobby came out onto the porch as the Impala pulled up. Dean was relieved and extremely grateful when Sam came quickly to Alex's side of the car, opening her door and greeting her warmly. Dean had managed one quick, private phone call to give them the heads up that he had broken her out of Oceanview with no problems but that she wasn't talking much. As she stepped out onto the gravel yard, Sam gently steered her towards the house, jokingly warning her about Bobby's lack of housekeeping skills as they climbed up the porch steps.

Dean walked towards the mechanic who was standing on his porch watching Sam's efforts with a nod of approval. A brief realization hit Dean that he and Bobby were getting way too excited every time Sam showed some compassion or kindness. Those things used to ooze out of his little brother's pores twenty-four-seven. Now he felt like he was always searching for them, hoping for that little glimpse of the brother he used to know. There was becoming too much of a distinction between 'Old Sam' and 'New Sam'. He had even found himself referring to his brother (who seemed more like _brothers_ these days) in that very fashion.

Apparently Bobby had noticed the change in Sam also. But at least right now, 'Old Sam' was graciously giving Dean a break from the stifling, silent angst Alex had been heaping on him for the past twenty-four hours.

"Girl looks terrible," Bobby commented as he approached. "Needs to put some meat on her bones."

Dean grinned. "Well, I was hoping your famous fried breakfasts would do the trick."

Bobby snorted then, as the realization of what Dean was implying hit him, widened his eyes. "Oh Hell no," he growled, wagging a finger in the air. "This ain't no refuge shelter, boy."

"Bobby, please…" Dean began but was cut off.

"Her brother don't get out for over a month, Dean. What the Hell am I supposed to do with a traumatized girl for a month? No friggin' way."

"I don't have anywhere else, Bobby!" Dean pleaded, raising his voice slightly. "You're the only one I trust with her and this is the only real home I've got. I just...". His voice faltered. "I don't know what to do here. I can't fix this. I can't take back what I did."

Bobby bit his tongue and swallowed, letting Dean continue.

"_We_ did this, Bobby. This is _our_ fault. It's the least we can do. We can't just dump her off by herself somewhere."

Bobby sighed. He'd crumbled the instant Dean had called this place home. "Alright," he mumbled, stepping towards the door. "Let's have some chow and get her settled."

Dean didn't follow him. "Uh, well, Bobby, the thing is, I gotta get going."

"What?" Bobby frowned. "Now?"

"Yeah, Sam and I got a hunt to get to," Dean lied. He knew he was transparent and that Bobby was well aware he was lying but he just wanted to get away from here, away from Alex, away from his shame and his guilt and the broken reminder of what he had done. Besides that, she would no doubt be happier with him gone. Not having to look him in the face after what he had done to her.

"What about your window?" Bobby pointed to the plastic tarp still taped over the Impala's missing rear windshield. "I got a new one waitin' for you in the garage."

Dean dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "It'll have to wait, this hunt's pretty urgent. Can you send Sam out?"

The mechanic grunted his disapproval but nodded and gave Dean a fond pat on the back before heading inside.

Meanwhile, Sam had decided it would be better to just keep talking to alleviate the tension and put Alex at ease. They'd tackle the apologies later. He gave her the tour of four out of the five rooms that Bobby used (the living room, the kitchen, the library, and the bathroom), explaining that the upstairs had been pretty much off limits since his wife had passed almost thirty years ago. What used to be the study was currently Bobby's bedroom down here on the main floor. He was finishing his tour in the kitchen, making a joke about the likelihood of finding vegetation growing in the oven, when he realized she hadn't really been paying attention to anything he was saying. She had instead spent the time staring at him rather intently, an indecipherable look on her face.

He began to grow nervous. When he had gulped down Thanin's blood, she had sensed him so strongly that she had passed out. He hadn't had any of Ruby's blood in a few days but could still feel it inside him, churning in anticipation of being put to use or being strengthened by another dose. Was she sensing him? Could she tell what he was doing?

She looked away quickly when he stared at her and excused herself, slipping off to the washroom just as Bobby entered. When the older hunter informed him Dean was waiting outside for him, Sam eagerly grabbed his duffel and called a goodbye to Bobby as he darted out the door, leaving the mechanic standing alone in the middle of his living room trying to think of how he was going to explain the brothers' sudden departure.

"Damn kids."

SPN-SPN-SPN

_TBC..._

_Next up: We jump forward 5 weeks to when Josh is getting out of jail. Alex's time with Bobby will be told in flashbacks – hopefully it won't get confusing. _ _Another for fun game... can you figure out the significance of Jill's phone number?_


	4. She Trusted You!

**CHAPTER 4 - _She Trusted You!_**

_**June 2009 (five weeks later)  
**__**Outside Fort Worth Prison, Texas**_

Sam peeled the sweat-soaked fabric of his t-shirt away from his chest and waggled his hand, trying to generate some semblance of air movement across his skin. He exhaled loudly and threw an irritated glare at his brother.

"It's hotter than Hell out here, Dean," he griped.

Dean gave him a long look. "Trust me, it isn't."

Sam huffed but didn't apologize for his poor choice of wording. "This is pointless. Let's just hand the letter and the keys in at the desk and get going."

Dean was leaning against the hood of his Impala, having also stripped off his outer layer but wishing privately he hadn't chosen to wear a black t-shirt this morning. Of course, this morning, he hadn't realized he would be sitting outside a jail under the afternoon Texas sun in June for three hours. He folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head at Sam. "We promised we'd give it to him in person so that's what we're gonna do."

"You know he's just gonna be pissed," Sam pointed out. He was standing in front of the blue Bronco that he had parked next to the Impala after the drive from Nebraska. All the hi-tech gear Josh had rigged the beast up with and the guy couldn't have thought to add air conditioning?

"Doesn't matter, we promised." Dean sighed. "It's her choice, Sam."

"But it's stupid and you know it."

"Not our call."

"But she's doing the wrong thing. She's making the wrong choice here. We'd be doing her a favour by not doing what she wants."

Dean threw him a hard stare. "We're not telling him. Is that clear?" he said sternly.

Sam clenched his jaw at the nerve of his brother giving him an order like Sam was ten years old. Like he was the boss. Like he was Dad.

"I'm just sayin'," he relented with a scowl.

They were parked in the large parking lot, a hundred and fifty feet or so away from the door the released prisoners were supposed to exit, waiting for Alex's brother to come out. Sam was about to reach back into the Bronco to get another bottle of water when Dean suddenly stood up straight, giving him a back-handed slap on the elbow. "Dude," he alerted, looking towards the penitentiary.

Sam jerked his head back around to see a man coming out of the building. He was about Dean's age and build with very short, dirty blond hair and about three days' worth of facial scruff. He looked different, rougher, but that was definitely Josh. The hunters started walking towards him but before Josh could notice them, two men got out of a Volvo that had been parked much closer to the door and headed towards the newly-released prisoner.

Josh saw the other men right away and even at this distance, the brothers could see him grinning widely as they approached him. Both men gave Alex's brother 'bro-hugs' and were talking excitedly though Sam and Dean couldn't yet hear the conversation. One of the strangers was huge; taller and probably even broader-shouldered than Sam. He had a massive set of really bright orange dreadlocks and wore khaki shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops. The second newcomer was smaller, had a slimmer build and neatly styled black hair. He looked a little out of place next to the militant-looking prison as he was wearing business slacks, a short-sleeved designer shirt, and three hundred dollar Italian sunglasses.

As the Winchesters came up behind the motley group, Josh looked up, his eyes briskly scanning them both before narrowing on Dean. He pushed his way roughly past the big redhead and threw a fast punch at Dean's face without even breaking his stride. Sam watched Dean take the hit, knowing his brother had been expecting this much and didn't move to intercede. Josh didn't stop at one, however, following up with several successive furious blows that quickly knocked Dean to the ground. Sam winced, realizing he had underestimated Josh's anger. He stood his ground though, deciding to let them duke it out and hopefully resolve things between them. Dean could handle himself.

It became apparent relatively quickly, however, that Dean wasn't returning the punches. Josh could fight, Sam would give him that, but Dean should have been back on his feet by now. Dean should have landed a few punches of his own. Hell, Dean should be pummeling Josh senseless by this point. It suddenly occurred to Sam that his brother wasn't even really trying to block the parade of blows raining down on him. He cried out in anger and stepped quickly towards the fray, reaching for Josh to pull him off Dean.

He was intercepted by a giant, orange wooly mammoth. The redhead moved in front of him and tried to block him by grabbing his shoulders. Sam gave him a quick jab in the jaw followed by a left-handed punch to the gut and shoved him out of his way. He lunged again for Josh, grabbing his elbow mid-swing. But suddenly the orange surfer-from-Hell was tackling him again, knocking him back a few feet away from the idiot of a brother he was trying to save. Sam lashed out hard, making contact a couple of times but felt a fist with a lot of force behind it that managed to sneak by his defenses and find his cheek. He grabbed the hand that had delivered the painful blow, twisting it around as he readied his knee to sink it into the man's groin. He stopped, however, when he became aware of a voice yelling at him. Or at all of them, actually.

"Stop! For Christ's sake, stop it!"

The redhead stopped struggling, unknowingly saving himself from a world of agonizing pain and probably saving any future children he would now be able to conceive. Sam relaxed his hold also, looking up to see the dark-haired man standing between the two fights, arms stretched out like a baseball umpire calling a runner safe. Josh was on his feet with his fists clenched, standing angrily over Dean but no longer hitting him. Dean was rolling to his side, forcing himself stiffly to his knees. Sam stepped forward and offered him a hand to pull him up. Dean took it obligingly, groaning slightly as he made it to his feet.

Sam noticed the facial blows had been concentrated on his brother's jaw and cheek, sparing both the eyes and nose. He wasn't sure whether this had been intentional on Josh's part or not but was glad for Dean's sake.

"Can we please behave like civilized adults?" the dark-haired man was saying, positioning himself between his two friends and the Winchesters.

Josh took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and pacing slightly in an effort to calm down before he turned to face the hunters. "How could you do it?" he demanded fiercely, knowing there was no need to elaborate as to what he was talking about. Sam noticed the blond man was once again directing his attention solely at Dean.

Dean sighed, rubbing his quickly-bruising jaw. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

Josh clenched his teeth. "I trusted you!" he spat. "_She_ trusted you!"

"Look," Sam chimed in, "we were wrong. We know that now. We can't undo what we did. I swear, as soon as we found out, Dean got your sister out of there." He decided to defend Dean since his dumbass brother didn't seem to be making any effort to do it himself.

Josh looked to Sam. "So where is she? Is she here?" he asked, his eyes still narrow but softening at the prospect of finally seeing his sister. "Is she alright?"

"She's not here." Sam hesitated, not sure how to give Josh the bad news. "She sent us instead."

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the Bronco as well as the letter Alex had given him, handing them both over to her brother. "She asked us to give these to you."

Josh snatched the letter eagerly, ignoring the car keys as he stepped back and tore the envelope open, turning away to read it.

The dark-haired guy turned to the brothers. "So, you must be Dean and Sam," he said, trying to sound casual in an obvious effort to keep the peace.

Sam and Dean nodded warily, hoping Josh hadn't spilled too much information about them.

"I'm Michael Taggart and this," he gestured to the scowling redhead standing next to him, "is Beacon. We're old friends of Josh and Lexie's."

The brothers recognized the names as the two childhood friends Alex had mentioned that handled the Brentons' banking and fake ID's for them. It seemed obvious at this point which friend took care of what. The redhead folded his arms across his chest in a threatening manner. "If that little girl has so much as one bent hair on her head, I swear, I'm gonna fucking kill you two."

Sam snorted. The bigger guy took a step forward but Taggart threw his arm in front of him. "Beke, please, calm down. I'm sure Lexie's fine." He turned towards Dean. "Right?"

Dean nodded noncommittally.

"Anyway Beke," Taggart continued, trying to calm the more volatile man down, "I saw her a couple of months ago at Oceanview, remember? You haven't seen her in years. Trust me, she's not a little girl anymore. She doesn't need you going around threatening every guy she meets."

"She'll always be a little girl to me, Tag," Beacon argued with his friend. "I've known her since she was born. She's like my own little sister."

Dean found himself instantly liking the big man. His brotherly affection for Alex was clearly genuine and from all he had heard about the guy from Lex, he was undeniably a loyal friend, if not exactly a law-abiding citizen. The observant hunter hadn't missed the way the other guy, Tag, had spoken about seeing Alex though. He most definitely didn't see her as a little sister, at least not anymore. Dean snorted to himself in disgust. That pansy-ass suit couldn't protect Lex from the neighbor's cat, never mind all the other supernatural fuglies she seemed to attract.

"NO! NO WAY!"

Dean winced when he heard Josh's cry. The blond man was holding the pages of the letter in his hand but he looked up sharply and strode towards Dean.

"No, you can't let her do this!" he demanded. There was no animosity in his voice, only desperation and fear.

"It's not my call," Dean answered apologetically.

"What's going on J?" Tag asked.

Josh waved the pages in his hand. "She wants me to go back to California and I quote…'live a normal life'. She says now that I'm free and clear with the law I should start over." He turned his attention back to Dean. "And what am I supposed to do, just forget about her? She's my sister for Christ's sake!"

Dean shrugged and tossed Tag the Bronco keys, realizing Josh wouldn't even see them coming never mind catch them. "It's her decision to make."

"Just tell me where she is," Josh pleaded.

"Sorry. I Can't."

"You of all people should know this is wrong," Josh insisted, appealing to Dean's big brother instincts with a pointed glance at Sam.

"I'm sorry, Josh. Really, I am," Dean said honestly. "She'll get in touch with you when she's ready. I can't help you. She asked me to give you the letter and assure you she's fine. That's what I did." With that he turned to walk away and Sam quickly followed suit, neither brother looking back despite their acute awareness of the three men walking behind them.

They climbed into the Impala, regretting the lack of foresight in their decision to park the Bronco right next to it. As Dean turned the key to start the car's engine, Josh came alongside the driver's window, leaning over and planting his elbows on the classic car's chrome sill.

"Dean, Sam, please," he pressed, peering into the car. "Just let me see her. I just need to know she's okay. Then if she still wants me to leave, I'll leave."

Neither brother answered.

"Please, I'm begging you," Josh continued. "You owe me that much."

Dean groaned in frustration and guilt. "I can't Josh. I'm sorry." With that he threw the car in gear and moved her forward, forcing Josh to yank his arms away quickly. He pressed the gas and pulled out of the parking lot, hoping like hell the persistent trio didn't attempt to follow them.

They rode in silence for the next ten minutes, checking the rear view mirrors to be sure they weren't being tailed. Not that it would matter anyway because they weren't going to Bobby's and Alex would be there for another couple of weeks or so, until she found her own place in town.

Sam glanced over at his brother, debating whether or not to chastise him for allowing himself to get the snot beaten out of him. He had seen Dean take it easy on an opponent before if he sympathized with him or if the guy was too drunk for it to be considered a fair fight. He had actually expected Dean to let Josh get away with one punch. But to just lie there and take it like that? That was foolish. That was stupid. That was weak.

He wasn't surprised that when Dean finally spoke it had nothing to do with what had just happened. Any incident with even a sliver of emotional content got zero radioplay in Winchester conversations. Any feelings Dean was experiencing right now would be swept under the rug and left to fester, only being brought out again when he had reached a breaking point and needed to beat himself up about something.

"So tell me about this hunt," Dean said.

Sam sighed and decided to let it go, not really wanting to discuss Dean's self-blame and guilt anyway. He reiterated what he had found out before Alex had ambushed them in Nebraska, finding himself cheering up now that the unpleasant task she had asked them to do was over and done with.

"Girl in Denver, Julie Phail, was killed alone in her apartment. She was found with her heart ripped out of her chest."

"So we're thinking werewolf," Dean said with a sideways glance at his brother.

"Yep, looks that way."

"You okay with this one?" Dean asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Uhhh, Madison ring any bells?"

Sam shook his head and dismissed his brother's concern with a wave of his hand. "That was years ago, Dean. And the chances of me falling for a hot girl who turns out to be a werewolf again are pretty slim, don't you think?" He pulled out the box of tapes from the floor under his seat and began to rummage through, glad to be back on the road. "I promise not to have sex with the werewolf this time," he grinned, raising his right hand with two fingers up. "Scouts honour."

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat and forced himself to tear his eyes away from Sam. The werewolf thing really didn't seem to bother Sam. And that bothered Dean.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

The next morning, Sam and Dean pulled the Impala up outside the small, moderate townhouse belonging to Edith Phail, the widowed mother of their suspected werewolf victim. As he strolled up the walk with his brother a few steps behind him, Sam could sense rather than see Dean pulling at the tie of the suit he had adorned for their cover of choice for the gig.

"Stop it, Dean," he chided without turning around.

"I can't help it," Dean grumbled testily. "I swear, this tie keeps tightening itself. I think it's trying to kill me. It's a Lillith tie."

Sam just rolled his eyes, refusing to let himself get annoyed by his brother's tendency not to take things seriously. That was just Dean. "It's the same tie you've had for years," he pointed out, not waiting for an answer before he knocked loudly on the door.

They were greeted by a woman in her late forties or early fifties with a frumpy sweater and brown slacks on. She looked like she had recently been crying and still held a handkerchief in her hand.

"Hi, Mrs. Phail?" Sam ventured in his patented Mr. Sensitive voice. "I'm Agent Bonham and this is Special Agent Plant with the FBI." Sam ignored Dean's slight snicker from behind him at the higher ranking the elder hunter had given himself when making the fake badges.

"The FBI?" she looked almost frightened but she opened the door wider as she stared at the badges the brothers held out.

"Yes ma'am," Sam continued. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter, Julie."

"The police already asked us every question you can imagine," she said, her voice starting to quiver.

"Yes ma'am, we know," Sam used the same excuse they had used a hundred times in the past. "But with a case of this nature, under the strange…ah…circumstances…your daughter died, we've launched our own investigation. Just to be absolutely sure we find out what really happened to Julie."

As usual, the lie combined with Sam's puppy eyes got them in the door and within five minutes they were sitting on her couch drinking tea and eating biscuits. Dean made a show of extending his pinky to the fullest as he sipped out of the tiny floral cup.

"So, Mrs. Phail," Sam pressed, "your daughter lived alone in an apartment on Melville Street. She was what, twenty?"

"Yes, she turned twenty in February." Out came the hanky. Dean stifled a groan. He hated being around grieving people, all that free-flowing emotion. He was more than happy to sip his tea and let Sam do the talking.

"And she was attending the University of Denver?"

"Oh no, Julie dropped out of school around Christmas time." Mrs. Phail's expression hinted that the subject had been a bit of a sore issue at the time. "That's when she moved into that apartment. She was a good student; she was going to major in Environmental Sciences. I don't know what possessed her to quit and move into a building there was no way she could afford."

"What do you mean? Did she not have a job?"

"Oh yes," the woman looked skeptical. "She worked part-time at Subway. You know, the one in the mall."

Tears were welling up in her eyes and Sam decided to move things along before they were subjected to the hugs and wails of grief he guessed were not far off. "Did Julie have a boyfriend?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Had you noticed anything different about your daughter's behavior recently?"

The woman shook her head. "I didn't see her much after she moved out. She started hanging out with this new group of friends. She didn't talk to any of her old school friends anymore."

"Do you know any of their names?" Sam asked. "Her new friends, that is. We'd maybe like to speak to them."

Mrs. Phail shrugged apologetically. "I only met one of them. And just the once. Her name was Amber. She was one of those, you know, those _goth_ kids." The word _goth_ was spoken like a four letter word of the impolite variety.

Sam smiled, ignoring the woman's stereotypical judgment of a very common and, in his experience, harmless style of today's youth. Just another way of fitting in. A few unhelpful questions later, Dean cleared his throat and placed his cup on the table, his way of letting Sam know this interview was going nowhere fast and they should get going. Sam agreed and rose to his feet, thanking Mrs. Phail for her time and heading towards the door. Dean deftly pocketed an extra couple of biscuits, thanked her also, and followed Sam outside.

"Well that was a colossal waste of time," he griped. "Let's check out the girl's pad."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

There wasn't much to see at the apartment either. As they followed the elderly doorman to the elevator, Dean quietly made an interesting observation that the building was pretty 'swanky' for a chick who worked at Subway. They were let into apartment 222 by the doorman under the same guise of FBI launching their own investigation into the strange death.

The apartment was fairly well furnished and had all the usual things one might expect to find in a very affluent kid's pad; X-Box, PS4, PC, laptop, walk-in closet full of trendy, designer clothes. Dean whistled at the impressive home theatre set-up. "Okay, this chick had to be banging the landlord 'cause you can't live like this serving ten inch hero sandwiches all day."

Although Sam had to agree, it still didn't point to anything supernatural and certainly didn't give them any clues as to who the werewolf could be. The only thing they found even remotely related to their line of work was a necklace on the sink with a pentagram on it. However, even that likely didn't mean anything because, as Sam pointed out, it was a fairly common charm, especially for young women of the 'goth' persuasion like Julie's friend Amber.

"Werewolves often attack people they know, people they've got a beef against," Dean pulled on his heavy-thinking face as he voiced his thoughts, eyebrows almost meeting in the middle. "When they're going for crazed and random, they don't break into an apartment."

"Unless they didn't break in," Sam thought out loud from where he sat at Julie's desk.

"Right, so the wolf's someone Julie knew. There's no sign of break and entry on the door and I'm pretty sure someone would have noticed a werewolf coming up in the elevator. Maybe she let him or her in before sundown."

"It could have come up the fire escape," Sam pointed out, waving a finger at the window." Dean went over to inspect the window and found small scrape marks on the sill and around the lock. "Yep, point of entry, right here."

"You've been watching CSI again," his brother accused.

Dean ignored the comment. "Seems kinda well-thought out for a wolf," he noted. "They usually don't think that clearly."

Sam shook his head. "Actually, the older a wolf is, the more of their human thoughts, memories, and awareness they retain when they change at full moon," he informed Dean. "They become less and less mindless beasts and more calculating killers."

His brother raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know that," he admitted. "Where'd you find that out?"

"I did a bit of research after Madison," Sam shrugged. "You know, just to make sure we hadn't missed anything."

Dean studied his brother for a minute, wondering what would have happened if Sam had found a way to reverse the condition _after_ killing Madison. Shaking off the horrifying thought, he leaned against the desk Sam was sitting at. "Too bad there's nothing here; no photo albums, no letters, not even a landline telephone we can get a call history from," he griped.

"And nothing on her computers," Sam added, giving up and shutting both the PC and the laptop down. "I think we can assume the cops took her cell phone, so how are we gonna find this Amber? Right now, she's the only lead we have."

Dean grinned. "Amber," he said with a quirk of an eyebrow. "Sounds like a stripper name. Maybe we should…"

"Dean! It's a normal name. Just because you met one stripper called Amber a million years ago, doesn't mean all Ambers are strippers."

Dean threw a 'spoilsport' look at his little brother but dropped the subject. "Okay, I guess it's lunchtime then."

"Dude, we just had lunch."

"Not at Subway, we didn't. This Julie had to have had work friends."

The doorman wasn't at his post when they left the building so they let themselves out and walked the three blocks to the parked Impala. It had been the closest parking spot to the building they could find and Dean had grumbled loudly about how much he hated big cities. No sooner than they had reached the car, however, they heard the wail of police sirens that sounded suspiciously like they halted at Julie's building. Hightailing it back to the front entrance they stopped outside, deciding against going in as there were three police cars pulled up and at least five cops running into the building.

The doorman was standing outside, leaning over the railing like he had just finished throwing up.

"What's happening?" Dean asked him.

"I just found Amber Taylor dead in her apartment," the man sputtered, his face ghastly white.

"Amber?" Dean's head cocked in surprise. The Winchesters didn't believe in coincidences. "Amber lives here?"

"Yeah," the man answered. "Apartment 122." He wiped his hand across his face. Dean decided they had better get their questions asked quickly because more police were arriving and it wouldn't be long before one of them got around to questioning the key witness.

"What did you see?"

"I went up to check on her, you know. She was good friends with Julie and she was pretty shook up when Julie died, so I was stopping in to make sure she was okay. I know she was home but she wasn't answering and the door had little scrape marks by the lock like someone had been jimmying it so I know I wasn't supposed to open the door myself but I was so worried so I did."

"And what did you see?" Dean repeated.

"Amber. Lyin' on the floor in the living room. Dead. She was cold and pale and…dead."

"Was there a lot of blood?" Sam asked, pressing for details. "Was she cut? Maybe a large wound on her chest?"

The man shook his head. "Just her neck."

"What do you mean?"

"There was a big wound on her neck, like something had been gnawing on her. But it was kinda weird 'cause there was no blood. Anywhere."

"No blood?" Dean was skeptical. "And no chest wound?"

"Nope, I didn't see one."

Sam glanced over to see two policemen heading their way.

"Well, thanks, sir. Now you just tell the local police everything you just told us. We've got to get going."

With that they walked quickly away and disappeared, having turned the skill of melting into the crowd into an art form through a lifetime of experience.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

The only thing gained from their trip to Subway was two hours of Dean groaning that he had eaten too much after practically inhaling a foot long sub less than an hour after he had eaten a full lunch. Sam tried his best to ignore his brother's grumbling as he listened to the police scanner and made a few phony calls to the precinct and local police morgue fishing for intel.

"So what did you come up with?" Dean asked him from where he was lying on the bed, wallowing in his self-inflicted discomfort. "Please say you got enough we can skip the morgue visit because I don't think I could stomach that right now."

"We may want to check it out later once the autopsy's done but it seems our friendly neighborhood doorman, whose name is – I kid you not – _Peter Parker_, was telling the truth. The body of twenty-two year old Amber Taylor was found in the living room of her apartment with one apparent animal-bite wound to the neck. The police are keeping it hush hush to not scare the public because of the strange circumstances. There was no blood on the scene and, get this, the body itself was almost completely drained of blood."

"That's not werewolf," Dean sat up. "That sounds like vampire."

"That's what I was thinking."

"A werewolf and a vamp in the same place? I thought they didn't get along."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, that's a movie."

Dean nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Oh yeah, right. Kate Beckinsdale. Tight leather."

"Can we focus, Dean?" Sam wasn't about to admit he had been referring to Twilight, not Underworld.

Dean shot his brother a 'lay off me' glare as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the ground. He was used to his brother's eyerolls at his lame efforts at humour but lately Sam seemed to have no patience at all. He wasn't even attempting to fake it. "Okay then Watson, what's our next move?"

"Different MO's, but victimology is the same. Both young, both female." Sam was thinking out loud.

Dean snorted. "Now who watches too much CSI," he muttered. "Please tell me we don't have another crazy copycat serial killing shapeshifter on our hands."

"Two young, female friends who lived in the same building are killed a day and a half apart. Maybe it's something to do with the building," Sam suggested.

"What about the vamp-wolf angle?"

Sam shrugged. "I got nothin'," he admitted. "Let's get a hold of Spiderman and find out what other young women live in the building."

Tracking down Peter Parker proved to be more difficult than expected and it was coming on nine o'clock at night before they found him at a local bar about two beers shy of passing out. Sam reintroduced himself as Agent Bonham as the brothers sat down, one on either side of the drunk doorman.

"Oh, the G-men!" he slurred sarcastically. "Yeah, right. Funny how the police didn't know anything about you fellas."

Sam winced. _Busted_.

Dean stepped in smoothly. "Okay, dude, you got us. We're actually private investigators working for Julie's mom. This 'wild animal in an apartment' story just doesn't wash with us. We just wanna find out what really happened to her and her friend Amber."

The explanation seemed to satisfy Peter for he sat back and offered to tell them everything they wanted to know. Well, it may have been the whisky shots Dean bought for him that made him more receptive to their questions, but the result was the same for the hunters.

As it turned out, there was a group of five friends that all moved into the building within a couple of months of each other. Julie and Amber were two of them. The others were Kim, Ginny, and Ella in apartments 401, 422, and 316 respectively. They all paid their rent in cash and he had no idea how any of them afforded the upscale digs. Figured they had rich parents.

Kim had taken off right after Amber's death, suitcase in tow. Peter had no idea where she was going but the poor girl had looked terrified.

Ginny was a sweet kid too though she sometimes played her music too loud and got regular complaints from the elderly couple next door. She worked at the local Denny's.

Peter didn't know Ella very well as she mostly kept to herself but none of them had boyfriends; at least he had never noted any overnight male guests.

Satisfied they had drained the poor guy of all useful information, Sam and Dean left the bar and quickly decided they should go check on Ginny and Ella. If there was a pattern, they would surely be the next victims.

They decided the fire escape would be the best approach as word may have spread about two imposter FBI agents nosing around earlier in the day. Two murders in the building had obviously put the landlord on edge as there were now three doormen visible from the street inside the lobby. They figured they would start with Ginny because her apartment was directly above Julie's and therefore easily identifiable from outside.

Dean parked the Impala as close as he could get, this time four blocks away, hoping they wouldn't need to make a quick getaway. Sam cradled his hands to hoist his brother up to the lower level of the fire escape in the alley and stood on a crate with his arm up for Dean to pull him up after him. They quietly stole up the steel stairs, careful not to be seen as they passed each window below Ginny's. Stopping and crouching at the fourth floor, Dean shined his flashlight on Ginny's windowsill.

Clawmarks. And the window was open.

Pocketing the flashlight and pulling out his .45 in one swift motion, Dean pushed aside the curtain and peered in. A quick scan revealed an empty den so he threw his leg over the sill and ducked inside. Sam followed suit, drawing his own weapon and clambering in behind Dean. They split apart and swept the room in silence. Their guns, loaded with silver bullets, were held out in front of them as they each moved towards a different door.

Dean pushed the door on the sidewall open forcefully to find himself in the girl's bedroom. Although there was no sign of Ginny, he couldn't help but notice the witchcraft paraphernalia on the bed, the shelves, and the wall. Symbols, books, and tools of the occult and black magic were everywhere. Werewolves, vampires, now witches? His puzzling was cut short by the sound of gunshots from another room and he instantly spun and sprinted towards them. "Sam!"

Sam had stealthily pushed the door on the far wall open, knowing if the apartment was a carbon copy of Julie's below, then this should be the living room. The room was quiet and dimly lit as he entered, reaching for the light switch on the wall behind him. He flicked on the lights to find a young woman lying on her back on the rug with a large, ragged, dark creature bent over her, its hand on her chin. It jerked its head up towards him when light flooded the room and instantly launched itself at the hunter. Sam fired several shots in rapid succession at it but was still thrown backwards into the wall, hitting the gyprock with a painful thud.

It jumped away from him, hissing in anger and obvious pain. Winded, Sam struggled to his feet, glad he had at least hurt the bastard even if he hadn't killed it. Suddenly Dean was in the doorway, raised .45 in hand. Sam noticed his brother's eyes darting around the room, assessing the situation in a mere instant. However, in less than that instant, the creature was streaking towards the door, Dean being the only thing between it and its escape. "Dean!" he cried sharply in fear and warning.

Dean fired off a few shots of his own and managed to sidestep the creature's strike enough that it merely knocked him off his feet as it fled past him. He scrambled back up quickly and threw a quick glance at Sam. "Check on the girl!" he ordered, pointing to the unmoving body on the floor. With that he spun and followed the creature out the window onto the fire escape.

"Damnit Dean!" Sam swore under his breath as he hauled his soon-to-be-bruised torso over to who he presumed was Ginny, pressing two fingers on her neck. Finding no pulse, he quickly started CPR compressions on her chest.

Dean could hear the creature making its way down the fire escape below him as he clambered down the stairs as fast as he could. He leaned over a couple of times to see if he could get a good shot at it and even fired off a couple but got no hits. Or if he did hit it, the bullets didn't seem to slow it any. He was well aware running around firing a gun in the city was not a smart move, but this may be the only chance he got at taking it down. Unfortunately, it seemed to be moving faster than him and when he got to the bottom, he just caught the tail end of it disappear around the corner of the alley that ran along the windowless back of the building.

He jumped down the ten feet from the lowest fire escape platform, landing squarely on his feet in the alley and charged after it. A brief thought of '_this is probably a very stupid move_' ran through his mind right before a rebuttal of '_Sam says I'm scared and weak – I'm can't let him be right.'_

He rounded the corner to find nothing but darkness. Slowing his pace to let his eyes adjust, he gripped his .45 tightly before him. He heard a noise on the wall behind him and spun towards it, finger toying with the trigger. He jerked it away, however, when his eyes made out a bum - or 'transient' as Sam would have insisted he call the old man - sitting on the ground with half a cardboard box held over him.

The homeless man had a scared expression on his face and Dean wasn't sure if the guy was wobbling out of fear or from the effects of whatever was in the paper bag he was holding.

"Did you see anything?" Dean barked at him.

The man nodded. "Big…freaky…thing…."

"Which way did it go?" the hunter cut him off impatiently.

The man pointed to a steel door in the building across the alley from where he sat up against Julie and Ginny's building. "Through there."

Dean moved quickly to the door, trying the doorknob to find it locked. He shouldered it once but to no avail. He was about to turn and ask the bum if he was sure about where the thing went when he felt a cold, spiny hand of steel tighten around his neck before his head was thrust forward, impacting sharply with the steel door.

Slightly dazed, he was trying to focus on getting his gun aimed behind him when a second hand grabbed him by the shoulder and he was flung across the alley, coming to an abrupt halt as he hit the building wall. Pain exploded in his back and side as his body met the concrete and he literally bounced off, landing with a thud on the alley floor. He lost the grip on his pistol and barely registered the sound of it skittering away across the ground. He let out a low groan and rolled over, trying to get his knees under him before his attacker returned.

Too late. The same steely hands grabbed his shoulders and flipped him effortlessly onto his back. The creature straddled him, pushing down on his chest with one hand while the other grabbed his chin. Recognition suddenly struck the hunter as he got his first good look at the creature.

A shritga. An age old witch of sorts that sucks the life force from its victims. Panic and bile churned in his stomach as he squirmed beneath the creature, desperately trying to pull his face from its grasp. He bucked and heaved but could not shake himself loose and watched in helpless horror as the shritga leaned in close to his face and opened its mouth. Quite suddenly he couldn't even move. He felt his energy literally being sucked out of him and, unable to keep struggling, his arms fell limply to his sides allowing the witch free and easy access to his soul.

He barely registered what happened next. He heard shots. Several of them, fired in rapid succession. Then the creature was screaming and convulsing, enough so that it released his chin. Realizing he could breathe again, he sucked in a mouthful of air, the stars that had been dancing in his vision slowly clearing.

_Sam had rescued him. Good old Sammy. Kid still had his back. _ He coughed and sputtered, rolling onto his side to get a look at his brother. But it wasn't Sam he saw standing over him, gun still aimed at the still form of the shritga.

It was Josh. And he had a huge grin on his face, like he'd just won some kind of competition after a boatload of smack talk had been thrown down.

"You and me, we gotta stop meeting this way, bro," the blond man grinned, reaching a hand out to help the still dazed hunter up.

_Cocky son of a bitch. _Dean reached up and clasped his hand around the man's wrist. He felt the solid yank pulling him up but couldn't get his feet steady under him in time and the moment his arm was released, he collapsed back onto his ass, his pride now hurting as badly as his side.

Instead of laughing, however, the blond man's smile disappeared and a look of serious concern came over his face. "Whoa, Dean, you okay?"

"Dean! You okay?"

Dean thought he was hearing double but the second voice of concern turned out to be Sam, who materialized in front of Josh and was suddenly grabbing at him, holding his shoulders steady as he squatted his tall frame down and looked into Dean's eyes, his own green ones wild with worry.

Dean nodded, still feeling extremely lightheaded but indignantly batting Sam's hands away.

"What happened?" Sam asked as he backed off just enough to pacify Dean's ego.

"It was a big scary-looking mother with claws and it was sucking this blue light out of Captain America's mouth," Josh informed Sam, nodding towards Dean while picking up the hunter's lost gun for him.

"Shritga," was all Dean managed to croak out as Sam helped him to his feet.

Sam threw his brother's arm over his shoulder and hoisted Dean up. "Got a match?" he asked Josh, who nodded with a questioning look.

"Toss it on the sucker, he'll burn in seconds," he instructed before turning back to Dean as he began walking out of the alley. "Looks like Josh got it in time," he said with relief in his voice. "Don't worry, you'll be fine in a few minutes."

Sam remembered the time he had been attacked by a shritga three years ago. He had felt weak and drained for a while afterwards but had recovered fully. He had also been attacked as a child but had no memory of that incident, though he knew Dean remembered it vividly. Both times, his family had chased off or killed the witch before it could do any permanent damage. Dean would be fine. He had to be.

He turned to Josh, who had torched the shritga as ordered and was jogging to catch up to them. "What are you doing here?"

"Following you," Josh replied in a clipped tone. "Trying to find my sister."

"What? How…" Sam decided to save the question of how the man had managed to tail or track them across three states and happened to be right in the alley when Dean needed him. He was pissed at the following but extremely thankful for the rescue. Right now, however, they had to haul ass. Shots had been fired and there was no doubt cops had been called.

"The bum?" Dean asked, still leaning on Sam.

"Bum?" Sam had no idea what Dean was talking about.

"There was a ….a homeless person in the alley."

Josh shook his head. "I saw you go around the corner, man. There was nobody else in that back alley except that shreega-thing."

Sam figured it out first. "Shritgas can take human form. The homeless guy _was_ the shritga."

"How 'bout Ginny?" Dean's voice was still strained and Sam hoisted him up a notch and picked up the pace before he answered.

"Dead."

"Your car's four blocks away," Josh said as he strode ahead of the Winchesters. "Mine's right here." He pointed to a dark corner right at the mouth of the alley where Sam could make out a blue Bronco parked illegally behind an industrial garbage bin. "Get in," Josh ordered, clicking his keychain to unlock the doors.

The wail of police sirens made the decision for the Winchesters and Sam practically shoved Dean into the back seat before hopping in the front as Josh pulled out quickly, melting into the city's night traffic just as the cops screeched to a halt outside the building.

"I just got out of jail," Josh said, attempting jovial but unable to hide the hint of genuine concern in his voice. "You two dickheads are gonna get me thrown right back in."

"How the hell did you know where we were?" Sam asked, still unable to believe that he and Dean had been tailed from Texas and didn't realize it. Not to be arrogant, but they were better than that.

Josh scowled, his anger at the Winchester brothers returning now that the life-threatening situation was over. "Doesn't matter. I just want to know where my sister is."

Sam sighed. "Look, when she wants you to know, she'll get in touch with you."

"At least give me a phone number," Josh pressed.

"We can't. Red-Eyes tracks you guys through phone calls," Dean offered from the back seat, where he sat slumped with his head back and his eyes closed.

"What do you mean?"

Sam explained. "A friend of ours," he began, deciding Josh didn't need to know the minor detail that Chuck was actually a Prophet of the Lord currently writing the Winchester Gospels, "found out that Red-Eyes is like a type of being we've hunted before, a Crocata. A Crocata is a corporeal scavenger that feeds on human souls, kind of like the Shritga from back in the alley."

"Red-Eyes isn't corporeal," Josh interjected, wishing Sam would skip the Monsters 101 lecture and just get to the point. "At least, not all the time."

"Yeah, but he's not a Crocata either. I said he's _like_ one. What he has in common with it is that he can intercept and manipulate all sorts of electronic feeds and transmissions. Like phone calls and video feeds. We figure he listens in and eventually recognizes Alex's voice on a line and that's how he's been tracking you guys all these years."

Josh sat in silence for a moment, staring out the front window at the traffic. "So if Lexie stays off the phone, he can't find her." He sounded encouraged.

"And email and security video feeds like say, at a bank or a convenience store. And anything identifying on the internet," Dean added.

"I can do that. I can help her with that. This is awesome, he'll never find her again!" Josh was verging on excited. "You guys just gotta tell me where she is."

"Not gonna happen," Sam said firmly as Josh neared the Impala.

Alex's brother gritted his teeth. "Okay, let's finish this case up - then we'll talk."

Dean opened his eyes. "You're not working this hunt with us," he said. "We got it."

"Yeah, like you had it back there in that alley?" Josh snapped, reminding Dean who had just saved his ass.

"Alright," Sam gave in, raising a hand in a gesture of peace, evoking a disapproving glance from Dean as Josh pulled up next to Dean's car. "Meet us back at the motel. It's the Weyburn Inn on Regina Avenue."

Josh gave him a look that Sam didn't think was overly friendly, but nodded and sat quietly as they got out of the Bronco. Dean managed to walk without assistance but Sam insisted on driving as they watched Josh pull away.

Dean sank himself into his baby's passenger seat and looked over at Sam with a lopsided smile. "Weyburn Inn? Dude, that's just mean."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

An hour later Dean felt much better. He had taken a shower as soon as they had arrived back to the Prince Albert Motel, taking stock of his newly acquired bruises as he did so. He was flicking through channels of soft core porn waiting on Sam to get back with the chow when there was a knock at the door. Looking through the peephole, he was surprised but grudgingly impressed to see Josh standing outside. They had parked the Impala round back behind a block wall. This guy must have eyes like a friggin' eagle to have spotted it.

He swung the door open and gave him a '_you win'_ shrug, waving the man to come in. Josh, not expecting the almost-warm greeting, took a few wary steps into the room, looking around. "The Weyburn Inn's nicer," he commented with a smirk.

"Okay, I gotta know," Dean said, settling back down on his bed. "How in the Hell do you keep finding us? Seriously, you should go work for Dog the Bounty Hunter."

Josh grinned, deciding amicable was the best way to go with Dean to get Lexie's whereabouts out of him. He made himself at home on Sam's bed, leaning with his back against the headboard and his arms behind his head. "Remember when I leaned in your car window at the jail?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I tossed Tag's blackberry in your car. I've been tracking you with his GPS the whole time."

Dean grinned, genuinely impressed. "No shit. Outsmarted by a friggin' surfer."

Josh laughed. "You hunters always were such an arrogant bunch."

Just then Sam came in holding a pizza box, quite surprised to find Josh sitting on his bed watching porn with his brother. "Uh, you guys want to be alone?" he asked awkwardly.

Josh sat up, ignoring the comment. "You better have enough for three," he warned. "I swear, you guys never stop. Tailing you two, I barely had time for peebreaks. I'm starving."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

**_TBC..._**

_That was a long one, I know, but I wanted to get right into the hunt. After the rocky start at the jail, things may seem to have smoothed over between Josh and Dean but trust me, their issues aren't worked out yet. Josh is still trying to find out where the Winchesters stashed his sister and this hunt turns out to be so much more than just a hunt... _

_I'm curious, did you like the scene at the jail or did you to expect it to go down differently?_


	5. That Classic Rock Crap

_After Dean broke Alex out of the mental hospital and dropped her off at Bobby's, five weeks passed before Sam and Dean met Josh outside the jail. During that time, Alex was at Bobby's and I will be telling their story in flashbacks, from the day she was dropped off to when she decided to let Josh go and gave Dean the letter for her brother. The two storylines merge in real-time near the end of the story. I hope this doesn't get confusing but the time-jumps are all labelled so it shouldn't. I had a lot of fun giving Bobby his own storyline in this story, even if most of it is separate from the boys and I hope you enjoy it too._

**CHAPTER 5**** - That Classic Rock Crap**

Over pizza, Josh pressured the brothers relentlessly to tell him where Alex was but both Winchesters adamantly refused. He finally gave up and promised to leave it alone on the condition that they let him help with the job. He had picked up bits and pieces of the hunt while following them so they just had to fill him in on the rest.

"I thought there weren't any more vamps," he interjected upon hearing the details of Amber's death. "Every hunter I ever met told me they were extinct."

"Old news," Sam informed him. "They pretty much were but they seem to be making a comeback."

"And the only way to kill them is with dead man's blood or chopping off their heads," Dean added. "Garlic and crosses don't work."

"Good to know. So, since three are dead and Kim has already split, that leaves one of the five friends left. I'm guessing your next move is to go check on Ella. Since you two shouldn't be seen back at the apartments, I guess I get that detail."

Dean seemed hesitant but Josh gave him a warning look. "Dude, if you even try to tell me it's too dangerous and I might get hurt, I will knock your teeth out."

"You and what army?" Dean laughed with a snort. Sam rolled his eyes, remembering the friendly rivalry that had almost instantly sprouted between these two last year in Indiana and fleetingly felt a bit left out. Shaking it off quickly and chastising himself for being childish, he turned to Josh.

"Okay, we'll be right outside. You see anything supernatural, you call."

Josh nodded. "Yes Mom." He then turned to Dean. "So this Ella chick, is she hot?"

Sam huffed in frustration. It was going to be like having two Deans to deal with.

"Hey now, Junior," Josh defended. "I've been in jail for over five months. If a damsel in distress wants to show me some appreciation for warning her that her life's in danger, I'm gonna let her. Don't wait up."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam and Dean sat double-parked outside the building in the Impala while Josh went in. Dean watched the building for any signs of trouble and Sam called Bobby to ask him a question about the shritga that had been nagging at him. Why did Ginny die instantly? Asher and the other kids they had come across a few years ago had simply fallen sick and the ones that had died had taken days to do so.

Bobby informed the young hunter that shritgas become more powerful as they get older. A relatively young one, say a hundred years old, would leave its victims to die a slow death that mimics sickness. An old one, old meaning five hundred years or more, takes the life force more completely and the victim rarely lives. This meant the shritga that had killed Ginny had been around for a very, very long time.

Josh climbed the fire escape and crept into Julie's empty apartment, slipping out into the hallway through her front door and thus avoiding the doorman. He made his way up to the third floor and knocked quietly on Ella's door. To his colossal disappointment, a portly man in his fifties answered, dressed only in silk boxers.

The guy looked Josh up and down with a stern glare. "Young man, it's two o'clock in the morning. What do you want?"

"Uh, my apologies, sir. I must have the wrong apartment. I was looking for Ella."

"Oh. No, this is the right apartment. You her boyfriend?"

Josh just smiled, avoiding the question. "Is she home?"

"Nope, sorry son. My niece went to stay with her grandma at our family's old place in Bennett. She was shook up with the murders in the building an' all. Wanted somewhere quiet to stay for a few days. I'm just watching her place for her while she's gone."

"Oh," Josh looked disappointed. "I had to work a double shift," he lied. "She tried to call me a few times but I missed her calls. She must have been trying to get a hold of me to tell me she was going. I'd love to go check on her, could you tell me where her grandmother's place is?"

"You her boyfriend?"

"Yes sir." Josh flashed the smile his sister referred to as his 'politician smile', claiming it screamed 'honest nice-guy' when he was usually being anything but.

The man paused for a second in thought before motioning to Josh to wait. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Josh stood outside fidgeting for a few minutes and was just starting to figure he was busted when the man opened the door and handed him a piece of notebook paper with an address on it. "Here you go son. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

"Thank you sir. You have a good night," he said politely, heading down the hall. He didn't look back to notice the man's eyes flicker completely black as they watched him get in the elevator.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**May 2009 (five weeks prior)…**_

Bobby was at a loss. Alex was a completely different person from the girl he remembered on the Medallion job. Back then she had been friendly, confident, and what he would have called spunky. Now she was just quiet. Trying to carry on a conversation with her was like trying to pull buckshot out of a hunter's ass... you could only dig out one pellet at a time. He was amazed at how many questions could be fully answered with just one word.

"Okay."  
"Yes."  
"Sure."  
"Thanks."

Then there were the two word answers.

"No thanks."  
"I'm fine."  
"That's okay."  
"No problem."

It wasn't that she was unpleasant or unfriendly. Quite the opposite. She was exceedingly polite. Just so damn quiet. Those Winchester boys had rarely been quiet.

He remembered with great fondness the days the little Winchesters had spent with him during their childhood. Sam was such a sweet, sensitive kid and those big hazel puppy-eyes got him almost anything he asked for from his 'Uncle Bobby'. Dean, on the other hand, had been so closed off and guarded in childhood and had never asked for anything unless it was for Sam. Of course, that sadness and selflessness was what had made Bobby fall in love with the kid. And now that same love for the man that boy had become had landed the mechanic in a situation he felt entirely ill-equipped to handle.

Bobby knew what to do when Dean was upset. Talk about anything and everything else until he was ready to deal with it. The older hunter was getting pretty good at recognizing the moment his advice or encouraging words would finally be heard. Unfortunately, that moment was usually too late for Dean, but the idjit would at least give him witty banter and friendly insults in the interim.

Sam was a different story. Dean could still recognize when the kid was bottling something up but Bobby had a harder time with it now. Growing up, Sam had been an open book of emotions and always voiced his concerns when something was bothering him. Not anymore. Since Stanford, the kid had changed. More so since Dean's demise and subsequent trip to Hell last year. Sam had just shut down and Bobby couldn't decipher what was going on in that brainy but thick Winchester head of his. He was still stubborn and opinionated though and would certainly let you know what his opinion was.

At least he still had an opinion. Alex was agreeable to the point of apathy.

Bobby had lasted almost four full hours after Sam and Dean had left her here before calling Ellen. Unfortunately, Ellen was tied up on a hunt with Jo and couldn't make it over to Bobby's place. She had also chided him for being a baby and told him to suck it up, much to the hunter's chagrin. Ms. Harvelle Senior could be quite intimidating when she wanted to be. She had been extremely pissed when she had found out Dean was alive again and nobody had bothered to call her... extremely.

Bobby had given Alex his bedroom and had spent the last couple of nights sleeping on the couch in the living room, the one Sam usually managed to squeeze his long limbs onto when the brothers spent the night at Casa Singer. He had woken up in the middle of the first night after the boys had dropped her off to find her curled up on the living room rug with a blanket. He hadn't a clue what to say so he had said nothing. By dawn, she was gone, back in the bedroom. The next night, however, she returned, once more sneaking away to the room before he awoke again in the morning.

That second morning he made his way to the kitchen and dug around in his almost-empty fridge, making a mental note to go get some decent groceries now that he had a houseguest. He pulled out ingredients for the greasiest breakfast he could think of, determined to put some meat back on her far-too-thin frame. While she was in the shower, he swallowed his pride and called Sam.

"_Hey Bobby, what's up?"_

"Need your advice, son. About this new…uh…puppy you guys dropped off here." He couldn't mention Alex on the phone in case Red-Eyes ever listened in.

He could hear Sam give a quiet laugh at the metaphor. "_What about her?"_

Bobby explained the quietness and the nightly travels, maintaining his references to a new pup. He could hear Dean in the background demanding to know what he was saying.

_Damn_. He hadn't really wanted to bother Dean with this. The boy seemed to be, as usual, shouldering all the blame for their mistake and its consequences.

Sam repeated the problems to his brother.

"_Play music_," Dean said quickly. Sam didn't need to repeat the suggestion as Bobby could hear the elder Winchester just fine.

"What?" Bobby grumbled to Sam, not seeing how that would help. "What kind of music? I gotta listen to that classic rock crap?"

Sam repeated Bobby's query to Dean without the word 'crap'.

"_No_," Dean assured him. "_Play anything. It doesn't matter what."_

Bobby shrugged. It was worth a shot. "And what about the sleeping arrangements? I ain't sleeping in the bedroom and making the … uh … puppy sleep on the couch. That's plain impolite. Unlike you two clowns, I got some manners."

It was Sam that answered this one. The old Sam, the sensitive and compassionate one, Bobby realized with a little smile.

"_Bobby, the pup just came from an abused home, remember? She's just scared, especially at night. It's not that she prefers the living room; it's just that she feels safer there. Not alone. She used to do the same thing with her… uh… littermate, when she was younger."_

Bobby sighed and hung up quickly with a murmured "Gotta go" as Alex came into the kitchen, an idea forming in his crafty head. "Mornin'," he welcomed her cheerily.

"Morning," she returned the greeting but with much less fervor, giving him a polite smile.

"I'm making breakfast," he grinned. "We got bacon, eggs, grits, and my specialty," he winked at her, "deep fried sausage fritters, Singer style."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 2009**_

The Impala slowed as they passed the house at the address Ella's uncle had given Josh. It was set back from the county road and looked to be quite desolate, the nearest neighbor probably a mile away. It was a large house with an almost equally large barn about a hundred feet farther down the long driveway. The paint was peeling and the porch sported an old chair swing that didn't look like it would support a cat, let alone a person. The roof shingles were worn and there were more than a few missing. In fact, the house in general looked rather derelict.

"I don't like this," Dean said, his voice edgy. "What twenty-three year old city-girl's gonna stay in a place like this?"

"One that doesn't want to get killed by vampires or werewolves," Sam pointed out.

They continued driving since they had no intention of announcing their arrival. This first drive-by was just for recon.

"If she's a witch like we suspect," Josh asked from the back seat, "can't she just use a spell to hide herself from them or something?"

"Dude, you ever come across a witch?" Dean glanced at Josh in his rear view mirror.

Josh rolled his eyes. "I friggin' hate witches. Bitch had me spouting p…" He cut himself off, cheeks turning slightly pink. "Never mind. Yeah. Just the once."

Dean snickered, remembering the story Alex had told them about a witch casting a love spell on Josh a few years back. "Well, hex bags _can_ hide people from demons," he explained, "but they're tricky to put together. Witchcraft is limited to what you've got the specific spells for. A bunch of twenty-odd-year old girls are probably newbies. They probably don't have a lot of tricks in their bag." Dean shook his head, knowing that if the girls were actual witches, then they may have unwittingly sold their souls to a demon for the black magic to work. He had felt no mercy for the last coven of witches they had come across but he did now after having been in Hell and knowing first-hand what they had in store for them. Nobody deserved that.

He circled back and pulled the Impala into the bushes across the street. They all got out and armed up.

"What's the plan?" Josh directed the question at Dean. Sam hid his slight frown of annoyance that their guest assumed Dean was in charge by leaning into the trunk to get his Taurus handgun, which he promptly tucked into the waistline of his pants.

"Well, like I said, I don't like this," Dean replied. "Something feels hinky. So I'll go up the drive and you two cover me from the bushes."

"Okay," Josh obeyed, checking his reclaimed Desert Eagle was in place at the small of his back. "But if she's hot, I call dibs."

"In your dreams," Dean laughed. "It's gonna be game over the second she sees me. She'll barely notice you're even there Old Man." Dean was only about two months younger than Josh but the way he saw it, younger was younger. Besides, no way the all-American pretty boy was gonna cock-block the ruggedly handsome bad-boy.

Sam wasn't so agreeable to the plan. "I dunno, Dean. What if there's something already in there with her?" Sam knew he should be the one to approach the house. With werewolves, vampires, and Shritgas in the mix, demons weren't a far stretch.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Hence the back-up, dude." With that he stepped out and strode boldly up the middle of the driveway, leaving Sam and Josh scurrying to get across the road and into the bushes without being seen.

Josh took the north side and Sam took the south, both finding plenty of cover in the trees lining the long driveway. Ducking for cover and sprinting between bushes, however, was slower than Dean's purposeful stride and the elder Winchester had already knocked on the door by the time they got close enough to hear any of the conversation.

The door was answered by a young woman in her early twenties. She was very pretty; a short-haired brunette with piercing green eyes. Sam couldn't help but chuckle when Dean's hand slipped behind the hunter's back and formed a one-fingered wave in Josh's direction. _Juvenile_.

Dean introduced himself as a friend of Julie's family who had been looking into the deaths and had become worried about Ella and Kim, apparently the only two of the group still alive. He had tracked her down here to make sure she was alright because, as a friend of Julie's, her safety was of great concern to him yada yada yada. Sam could see Josh rolling his eyes at the smooth-talking charm Dean was laying on but wasn't surprised that, as usual, it seemed to be working.

Sam then heard a faint thud coming from the barn farther down the driveway. He gestured to Josh to stay here and back-up Dean while he went to check it out. Josh didn't seem pleased at the prospect and motioned for Sam to wait until he could go with him but Sam decided to pull one of Dean's plays and ignored the request, slinking back into the trees to skirt around the house.

Frustrated, Josh clenched his teeth, torn between following Sam and keeping his eye on Dean. He chose the latter because if anything was here, they were aware of Dean's presence where Sam would still have the element of surprise. Damn, these Winchesters were pigheaded. At least Lex always obeyed him when in a tight situation, even if those were the _only_ she would do so without questioning him.

He remained where he was, crouched in the bushes not ten feet from the porch. Dean finally charmed his way in and had just stepped inside behind the girl when Josh saw his stance stiffen and his hand reach quickly for his pistol, tucked in the back of his jeans as usual. The door suddenly slammed shut, blocking Josh's view and trapping Dean inside.

_This wasn't good._ He sprinted towards the house, keeping to the side and hopping effortlessly over the side of the porch railing. He crept quickly along the side of the house to the front window by the door. Keeping well back to avoid being seen, Josh peered cautiously inside while he dialed Sam's number with his phone, hanging up as soon as the call was connected. He was certain Sam would get the meaning and Dean didn't have time to spare explaining. Inside the house, he saw the girl standing off to the side with her back to him and Dean wrestling violently with a big guy in the middle of the room. Lying on the floor in the far corner was an elderly lady with blood all over her torso.

Josh was undecided as to whether the girl was in on it or not and didn't want to chance shooting an innocent person. He couldn't get a clear shot of the guy punching Dean so he figured his only option was to get inside and he sprinted over to the door. Naturally, it was locked. He was just about to shoulder it in when something big came crashing out of the front window. He threw his arm up to protect his eyes from the flying glass.

It was Dean. Josh watched the hunter sail head first into the wooden railing, his momentum crashing him right through it and down onto the hard ground below the porch. He heard a sharp cry of pain that ended abruptly as the impact with the ground winded the hunter. Hoping Dean was alright but wanting to take quick advantage of the fact that the hunter was now clear of his line of fire, Josh stepped in through the broken window and aimed his gun at the big man who had thrown Dean out.

"Don't move!" he warned, pointing the gun back and forth between the girl and the man.

Both of them simply smirked at him. The man moved threateningly forward and Josh fired, hitting him three times center mass but he kept coming. Realizing he had no idea what this thing was or how to kill it, for it was obviously not a regular man, Josh fired again, stepping backwards out of the broken window as he did so.

He heard a scuffle behind him and hoped that was Dean getting to his feet and that the more experienced hunter might have some suggestions on how to kill these things. He spared a glance backwards and cursed at what he saw.

Dean was on his feet, alright, but was currently fending off two more men, both of whom also had seemingly supernatural strength. Josh fired at the one he could safely hit without shooting Dean in the process. A flinch and a curse was the only reaction he got. He turned back around to face the first man who had stepped out of the broken window after him. He threw a quick punch which landed squarely on the guy's nose but didn't slow him down much. He ducked a returned blow and fired the .50 calibre gun point blank in the guy's face.

Finally, a reaction. The guy screamed, pulling his hands in front of his face and staggering backwards a few feet. If he could just do the same to the other two, Josh thought, then that should at least hold them off until Sam got back here. That would make it three on three.

He spun around to do just that and cursed again at what he saw. Dean was now on his knees between the two men, one arm held up by each. His head was rolling back and forth as he fought to maintain consciousness, a trickle of blood making its way down his cheek. That in itself wasn't really a problem as Josh now had a clear shot at both men's faces. The problem was Dean's .45 in one of the men's hands, pressed firmly against the back of the hunter's head.

"Drop it or I shoot him," the man snapped. Josh hesitated for a second but when the man's trigger finger tightened, he complied. "Alright, alright," he placated, placing his gun gently down on the porch at his feet and raising his hands to shoulder height. Josh wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a reproachful look cross Dean's face that seemed to say '_what in the Hell did you do that for?_'

What happened next was completely unexpected. Josh watched in shocked disgust as one of the men holding Dean leaned down and licked the trickle of blood from the hunter's face, starting on the jawline and slowly moving his tongue upwards to his temple. Dean weakly tried to pull his head away but the gun was brought around to his other temple to hold it still. When the man looked back up, his eyes were somehow fiercer and Josh realized he had a bunch of pointy teeth jutting out from beneath his upper lip.

_Vampires. These people must be vampires._

The girl stepped in front of Josh, scooping up the surrendered weapon and turning it on its previous owner. She gave the two men holding Dean an angry glare. "Rein it in Ty, we still need to find the other brother. Get him inside quick. You can have him when I'm done with him."

That was actually the last thing Josh heard because something hit him on the back of the head and he crumpled down onto the porch deck, unconscious.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam made his way towards the barn. It was probably just the girl's grandpa or handyman or maybe even a horse or a cow that he had heard, but he decided it warranted checking out. Surely Dean and Josh could handle the girl. So far this case hadn't shown any sign of demons except the possible enabler of the witch coven, so Lillith probably wasn't involved. That didn't necessarily mean Dean was safe, but it did mean he wasn't in a position where he could likely get sent back downstairs and tortured by whatever replacement Hell had found for Alistair.

He reached the barn incident-free and made his way to a door in the side, pulling it open a crack to take a peek. There was no sign of people or farm animals. In fact, the place was silent. Not satisfied, Sam figured something had to be here as something had made the noise he had heard. There was no wind to blame and if it had been a rat, it would have to be at least the size of a sheep. The barn was one huge room with the rear third of it supporting a large hayloft. He stepped inside, gun drawn, making his way around the large open space, peering behind equipment and stacks of wood stored around the perimeter.

He was startled by the vibrating of his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket, figuring it was probably Dean calling to order his ass back to the house. He was getting tired of the back and forth dance they had been playing of _who's the boss?_ He was stronger than Dean by far now, and not just physically. He hoped his brother would eventually accept this and let him lead, but it seemed Dean was still struggling to deal with his own weaknesses.

It wasn't Dean's name on his display screen, however, it was Josh's. Sam knew Josh had been annoyed when he'd taken off and wondered briefly if the guy was just calling to give him grief but when it cut off before he could answer, worry quickly superseded his annoyance. He spun around to head back out the open door and was so startled by the figure in front of him that he never managed to duck the spade handle that hit him in the side of the head.

He was knocked down as flashes of light exploded across his vision. He felt his hip and right arm come in painful contact with the barn floor even as he raised his left hand to block any further attack. None came. He fast-blinked the focus back to his eyes to see two men and a woman standing around him laughing.

Angered by their laughter, he reached for his dropped gun and whipped it round to point in their direction, waving it back and forth between them. His actions only seemed to fuel the hilarity of the situation and their guffaws got louder. The one holding the shovel waved a dismissive hand at him. "Put that away. It's not going to do you any good here." He then snarled and hissed at Sam, his face growing fiercer and a full set of vamp fangs bulging out of his mouth.

Sam fired at him rapidly, hitting him four or five times before the other man launched himself on the hunter. Sam was unable to hold onto the gun under the impact force of the extremely strong guy who was now on top of him pulling a muscled arm back to start laying punches. The hunter blocked with his left as he rolled over slightly, just enough to get a leg in front of the vamp and land a hard kick in his gut. He fell backwards with an angered cry, freeing Sam from his bulk. The hunter jumped clear quickly, turning and grabbing a giant two-man saw from the wall behind him. Before any of the vampires could even react, he swung it heavily down on the neck of the one on the floor, ramming his foot down hard on top of it to push it all the way through the vampire's neck, effectively severing his head.

He looked up sharply, not pausing to enjoy the satisfaction of his swift kill as there were still two more super strong vampires to contend with. The saw was wedged too far into the floorboards to yank free and Sam had to abandon it as he scuttled quickly backwards, keeping a wary eye on the man and the woman. Quick, furtive glances around the room yielded to his trained eye that the barn was full of farming tools, most of which could be considered potential weapons. Unfortunately he never got a chance to try any of them out as the woman suddenly lunged at him with a scream. He fended her off with a hard punch and kicked her feet out from under her. But by the time he landed a furious boot in her face when she fell on the floor in front of him, another vampire had appeared in the mix. This one, a young man who looked to be barely eighteen, had the sense to pick up Sam's lost 9mm and now stood calmly pointing the gun at him, standing a step in front of the one still holding the shovel.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC…**_

_Next up: things go from bad to worse..._


	6. Now Who Thinks They're Jesus?

**Chapter 6 –Now Who Thinks They're Jesus?**

Dean woke up to the sound of water dripping. When drifting out of sleep or head-trauma-induced unconsciousness, that _tap tap tap_ sound could be extremely annoying. He realized fairly quickly that he was lying on a cold, hard surface and tried to figure out where he was as his vision slowly cleared. He remembered the hot girl, hitting on her just to piss off Josh, and scoring an invite in. Then he remembered seeing who he figured was Ella's grandmother lying on the floor all covered in blood. He was fairly certain she had been dead so he could leave '_saving grandma_' off his to-do list for today.

The rest was a little foggier. He vaguely remembered fighting with an incredibly strong guy who was fast, even faster than he was because the dude had clocked him before Dean had even managed to get his gun out. Holy water had no effect and he remembered flying through the air, a lot of pain, then more superhuman dudes taking turns using him as a punching bag. Sam hadn't been there. Hopefully that meant Sam was still safe. But someone else had been there. Oh yeah, Josh. What had happened to Josh? That's right… the idiot had relinquished his gun. That about summed up everything he remembered.

By then, the blurriness in his vision had given way to shadowy shapes in the darkness. He winced but stifled a groan as he sat up, trying to be as quiet as he could since he had no idea whether or not he was alone. He blinked a few times, waiting patiently until the shadows began to take more recognizable shapes. The most noticeable one was the still form of a man on the floor about ten feet from where Dean sat. Dean crawled over, guiltily relieved to find it was Josh and not Sam. He turned him over and slapped his face a couple of times, hoping for a reaction.

He got a low grumble. Satisfied, he threw in a couple of extra not-so-gentle taps for the fun of it and turned his attention to their surroundings as Josh fought his way out of unconsciousness. It looked like they were in a cellar but there were no windows. The very limited light was from a dirty, dim bulb at the top of the stairs. The room was empty and the only door was at the top of a rickety wooden set of stairs. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Again, Dean hoped that was a good thing.

The hunter managed to get himself to his feet and haul his aching body up the stairs. Naturally, the door was locked. It was pretty solid in comparison to the stairs he was standing on, he thought ruefully with a nervous glance downwards at his feet. He pressed his ear to the door and could hear someone or something shuffling about on the other side. Suddenly he heard a click as the key turned in the lock and he was about to sprint down the steps when the door flew open with a speed and force that could only be from a supernatural source. It clipped Dean hard as it swung past him, knocking him off his feet and backwards down the stairs. He landed with a thump about halfway down but instead of rolling or bouncing down the rest of the steps, the rotten wooden treads gave way beneath his weight and he crashed through them. Pain rocketed its way through his shoulder and back as he smacked into the concrete floor below and he couldn't help but let out a sharp cry.

The noise forced the awakening Josh into at least partial lucidity and he struggled to sit up, the confused look on his face making it clear he was trying to assess where he was and what was going on. More lights came on, blinding Dean for a second, but he could hear two sets of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs above him.

He caught sight of the barrel of his own Colt .45 being pointed warily down at him through the hole he had just made with his falling body. He drew upon his inherited Winchester resolve to block away the pain and scrambled out from under the stairs, determined not to let Josh face whoever these guys were alone.

He stood boldly in the men's path, pulling his cocky '_ha you don't scare me_' look onto his face. Josh was getting to his feet behind Dean and the hunter reached out a hand to help him up, never taking his eyes off the two approaching men.

"Vamps," he heard Josh say in a barely audible whisper behind him.

That made sense. The man in the girl's living room had just been too damn strong to be human. He had figured demon but the holy water hadn't worked on him. Amber had been killed by a vamp. Why had they not brought the machetes to the house? Or at least some dead man's blood. Winchester Rule number two. _Be prepared._ He had actually managed to convince an eight-year-old Sam that the Boy Scouts had stolen that line from their Dad.

Dean recognized the vampires as the sons of bitches who had tackled him after he fell off the balcony. "Coming back for a second try, huh?" he quipped, folding his arms across his chest in a challenging stance, not caring that he had been beaten on the previous round with these two and his challenge seemed rather ridiculous at this point.

The man in front snorted. "We wouldn't waste our time. It was too easy the first time."

"Now see, I wouldn't call that a fair fight," Dean continued the banter, his long time method of stalling while he figured out the best way out of a bad situation. "I was distracted by your girlfriend undressing me with her eyes." He figured the chick had to be with one of them as vampires traveled in tight-knit groups and were known to mate for life.

Another snort. "Ella's not with us," the second one laughed. "We don't do demon."

Dean hid his surprise at the revelation that Ella was demon, not vampire.

"So if you're _not_ her boyfriend," Josh chimed in remembering Ella's last words of authority on the porch and taking Dean's cue to be mouthy, "that just makes you her bitch."

The second guy growled. Not an annoyed human growl, but a real, beast-like growl with extra teeth and everything. Josh started to doubt Dean's strategy of back talking your captors. Dean mumbled over his shoulder at him. "Nice going, genius."

"Well excuse me, Bruce Willis," Josh argued back in a hushed voice. "I was just following your lead."

"Since when do vamps work with demons?" Dean turned his attention back to the two vampires, deciding maybe less confrontational was the way to go this time round. He had been briefly bitten once by a vamp when Gordon Walker had been turned and really didn't relish the prospect of repeating the experience.

"Since the apocalypse decided to roll around," the first vamp answered. Dean threw a sharp glance at Josh who had moved forward to stand next to him. Sure enough, he made out a flicker of confusion at the vampire's comment. He hadn't been sure how much Lex had told him in the letter she had asked Dean to hand-deliver. Obviously she hadn't mentioned the impending end-of-the-world, Lucifer-rising bit.

"So what do you want with us?" Dean asked. "You tryin' to score brownie points?"

"Oh there's no _'__us'_ about it," the first vampire sneered. "Ella just wants you," he jutted his chin towards Dean but threw a smirk at Josh that made Dean worry for his friend. "She has a few questions to ask you about your feathered friends."

The second vampire laughed. It wasn't even an evil laugh, just a genuine 'friend-just-told-a-funny-joke' type laugh. "Yeah, Lillith sure wants you bad."

"Lillith?" Dean gritted his teeth. "You morons are working for Lillith?"

"No, we follow Ivan," the second one spat, either annoyed at the insinuation that they worked for a demon or at being called a moron. Probably at both. "We just decided to place our loyalties on the winning side. There are opportunities for ambitious creatures like us. This is no time to be sitting on the sidelines, Winchester."

Dean hated it when they knew his name. It made him feel so ignorant of the whole damn situation. He silently cursed Cas for his refusal to share the details until the last possible moment, which usually came too late.

"Yeah, so enjoy these last moments," the vampire continued. "Maybe we'll have you for dinner when she's done."

Both vampires seemed to find this extremely amusing as they laughed and headed back up the stairs. "Don't even try to come near this door," one of them warned as they reached the top of the stairs. "'Cause we're right outside and I'm pretty sure this nice Desert Eagle will shoot clear through it." With that, the door slammed shut and all the lights went out, leaving the two men in near full darkness.

"I want my fucking gun back before we leave," Josh grumbled into the dark. "And do they even know how old that dinner joke is?"

"Vamps aren't known for originality," Dean answered him, trying to decide whether or not he should attempt to go up the stairs.

"They obviously don't want you dead," Josh continued, as if reading Dean's mind. "So they probably won't shoot until we actually open the door."

Dean sighed, deciding against it. "They might have questions for me but they won't think twice about shooting you."

"Hmm. I kinda got that. So what are they keeping me around for? Dinner?" Josh managed to sound a lot more jovial than he was feeling at that moment.

Dean was glad for the cover of near darkness. "If you're lucky."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Josh couldn't really think of anything worse than being vampire chow.

"What I mean is that maybe they're keeping you around in case I don't talk."

"Oh." There were a few seconds of silence. "Well don't."

"Don't what?"

"Talk. No matter what."

Dean let out a chuckle. "Josh, do you even have any idea what all this is about?"

"I'm guessing it has to do with angels," Josh answered, surprising Dean a little with his awareness of Heaven's finest. "So I'm also guessing it's pretty big. So don't talk."

"What do you know about angels?"

"Not much. Lexie wrote that there's something big going on and you're helping them. But she seems to have left out most of the details. Care to fill me in?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know." Alex had already told her brother more than Dean had hoped. "Do you know what these guys will do? What you're asking?"

In the darkness, Dean could hear Josh sigh and the man's voice seemed to sink lower to the ground. He guessed Josh had sat down, resigned to patiently wait out whatever fate would come through the door. "I'm asking you to hold out until your brother gets here," Josh said simply.

Dean hoped Sam was alright. Yes, of course he was. He had to be. Sam would rescue them. Sam had always come through in the past and, despite the hurtful things his brother had said under the influence of the siren, he surely didn't find Dean that pathetic and weak that he wasn't worth saving anymore. Right? Of course not. They were still brothers and Sam would still fight tooth and nail for him. Sam would show up.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**May 2009 (four and a half weeks prior)…**_

Bobby opened the third door on the left in the long hallway and peered inside. It must be ten years since he had stepped foot in this room, even though it was in his own house. It looked exactly as he remembered it, with large shapes covered in sheets virtually filling the back half of the room. The sheets had been white at one point, but were now a dark shade of grey. This upstairs room had once been his drawing room, or study, but was now nothing more than a storage room for old furniture and junk he just didn't have the stomach or heart to throw away.

He stepped over to the oddly-shaped mound on the right, reaching out and yanking the sheet off. He instantly regretted the move as he was sent into a full five-minute coughing spell by the thick cloud of dust that leapt into the air and seemed to merely grow bigger rather than dissipate as he waved his arm wildly through it. Finally he was able to uncover his face and wipe the stinging tears from his eyes. He stood with his hands on his hips and stared at the pile of memories stacked before him, resisting the sudden temptation to root through in search of something to rejuvenate the fading images of his beloved Karen.

Instead he focused on his reason for coming up here to begin with - his current houseguest. Until now, Bobby had never found himself at a loss for words; he even prided himself on the fact that he was a good people person. He maintained communications with the affable hunters, the slightly anti-social hunters, and the downright unfriendly sonsofbitches like Rufus. He charmed information out of witnesses and always managed to convince civilians after the hunt to refrain from mentioning his presence to the authorities. But that was usually where his job ended. He didn't stick around to clean up any emotional messes left in the wake of the hunt. The Winchester boys were the only people he'd ever even tried that with and he wasn't exactly doing a bang up job on that front. He may have been able to handle it if they had offloaded a boy on him; he could have talked cars and maybe even slapped the kid upside the head a few times to snap him out of it. But he didn't have a clue where to begin with a girl. Sure, she was twenty-five and therefore technically an adult, but she was a few months younger than 'his' kid, Sam, which meant she too was just a kid in Bobby's eyes.

He had silently cursed Dean for offloading her on him as he struggled to make dinner conversation the past two evenings. Sitting on the couch eating take-out in virtual silence, he had been extremely thankful for the distraction of the TV. He'd even allowed the annoying delivery boy inside, something that only ever happened when the nitwit's idol, one _Dean Winchester - master of fake ID's_, was visiting. The kid had seen the order to Singer Auto Salvage come into the diner with more than Bobby's usual single meal and had shown up bubbling with excitement at the door. "Hi Mr. Singer! Dean here?" Bobby had almost managed to convince him the Winchester boys weren't there when the walking hormone had noticed Alex walking up behind him. It was game over after that. Took the hunter fifteen minutes to get rid of the chatty nineteen year old only to find out the idjit had made a mistake with the order. Kid was about as useful as tits on a bull.

Except for mealtimes, Alex had spent the majority of the three days she'd been here holed up in his library, reading all sorts of books on monsters, demons, and the supernatural in general. He fully expected her to break out in tears any time now and found himself constantly bracing himself for that inevitable, terrifying moment. I mean, that's what young girls did, wasn't it? But it had been almost three days and it hadn't happened yet. She was still awkwardly quiet and closed off.

He moved a few boxes and an old sewing machine aside, uncovering what he was looking for. He blew the dust off the large square object and opened the lid, a slow smile spreading across his face. He had work to do and, if Dean's instincts were right, this would keep her distracted enough to give him some time. And Dean's instincts were always right.

A half hour later, Alex came out of the shower to find Bobby tinkering with the large object on the living room table. Too curious to resist, she stepped up next to him.

"What's that?" she asked.

Bobby smiled at her show of interest. "It's a turntable."

"A what?" she looked skeptical. "Oh, you mean like a record player? Plays those big vinyl LP's from way back?"

Bobby stifled his growl at the unintentional insinuation that he was old. "If you mean those," he pointed to the stack of LP's he had found and placed on the table, "then yes, it plays them."

Alex reached forward and picked up the top album, turning it around in her hand like it was some ancient relic before sliding the vinyl out. "Merle Haggard," she read aloud. "You call this music?"

Bobby grinned. "Was that sarcasm?"

She smiled briefly and reached for the player, sliding the record on the turntable. "How does it work?"

Bobby showed her the variable speed dial and how to get the turntable going, dropping the needle on the first track, '_Sing Me Back Home'_. The sound that floated out of the thirty year old player was crackly and had substantially less bass than that crap the kids played today, but Bobby was satisfied at the small smile of approval Alex gave him. He gestured to the stack on the table with a wink. "I'll bet not a one of those is younger than you are," he said, "but trust me, they don't make music like that anymore."

He left her alone to continue rooting through his old collection and headed off downstairs to start his next project. He nodded in satisfaction when he heard the volume of the music being turned up. After fifteen minutes of Merle Haggard, the record was stopped and the sound of Hank Williams came floating down the stairwell.

_Yep, Dean Winchester, damn genius._

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 2009**_

Sam struggled in vain to free himself from the ropes binding his wrists together around the post behind him. He had been unceremoniously shoved with his back against one of the thick log posts supporting the barn's hayloft and had his hands tied behind it by the woman vampire. Sam figured she must have been a sailor or sailor's wife before she was turned vamp if her knowledge of knots was any indication. The young one, clearly the leader, was pacing back and forth in front of the hunter, running his hands through his short, dark hair.

"Samuel Winchester. The one and only Samuel Winchester," he repeated, nodding his head in apparent pleasure at the identity of his captor. "I must say, it's a bit of an honour."

"Fuck off."

The vampire looked at him with a puzzled look. "Aren't you in the least curious who holds your fate in their hands? Who you're telling to fuck off?"

"Not really."

The teenager gritted his teeth, obviously not appreciating the disrespect. "You are impertinent. You should show some respect for your elders. I may not look it, but I am perhaps the oldest of my kind left."

"Good for you. I hope you had a good retirement plan because from what I hear, this economy's a bitch on pensioners." Dean was usually the mouthy one when faced with undesirable odds, but Sam too was born a Winchester and just couldn't help himself. It must be in the genes, he thought, still working at the ropes binding him.

Clearly annoyed now, the vampire snarled but took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore Sam's attempts to rile him. "You may call me Ivan," he continued. "As for you, I hear you're quite unique, Samuel."

"It's Sam."

Ivan ignored the correction, once again seeming pleased to have _the_ Sam Winchester in his custody. "You know, to a vampire, human blood is something to be treasured, enjoyed, even savoured," he said slowly. "Now the blood of a human possessed by a demon, on the other hand, can have quite an adverse effect on any vampire unfortunate enough to digest it." He was speaking to Sam as if he was a schoolteacher and Sam his eager student. "Rather like a McDonald's burger, I'm afraid. Pretty tasty, but not so good for your health." He walked closer to the restrained hunter, stopping just outside of head-butting range. He reached a hand up and ran two fingers down the side of Sam's neck, licking his lips. Sam squirmed away as much as he could, finding the light touch far more invasive and uncomfortable than a mere punch to the gut would have been.

"Centuries ago, there was a girl." The vampire stepped back to continue his lesson, this time apparently choosing the subject of history. "She was rumoured to be a human with demon blood." He looked at Sam with a smile. "Much like you." He started up his pacing again, hands clasped behind his back. "Legend goes that a vampire named Mortrim Van-something-or-other drank from this human and became ten times more powerful than any other vampire in history."

He stopped and looked at Sam, an expression of deep thought on his face. "Of course, other legends say he died an excruciatingly painful death the instant he ingested her blood." He shrugged. "I'm inclined to believe the first story."

Until that point, the female vampire had been hanging back, letting the young-looking leader have his conversation with the prisoner. Sam saw a look of shock cross her face, however, at Ivan's last comment. "Ivan, no!" she cried, stepping forward. "Ella said to leave him be. She said we could have the other one but not to touch this one."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. _Dean. They had Dean. And they were going to feed on him._ He renewed his surreptitious but vigorous struggle with the ropes that were painfully cutting into his wrists. He had to get free. He had to save Dean.

"I don't really care what that demon bitch says," Ivan spat, not taking his eyes off Sam. "She's not here, is she?"

"On the contrary," a female voice sounded from the side door Sam had entered earlier. "Unless you want Lillith and every demon in her employ after you, I suggest you back off, Ivan. Lillith wants this one all to herself."

The pretty brunette Dean had been chatting up at the house walked up to Sam, stopping in front of him with a smile.

"You're a demon," he said, instantly trying to summon his powers.

"My, you're observant," she smiled, not looking overly worried about her proximity to a known demon-killer. "What's the matter Sammy? Can't aim without your hand?" she mocked. "I know exactly what you are and _aren't_ capable of… so far."

Sam ignored her tease, realizing she was right and he had no idea how to focus or channel his powers without the use of his hand. Practice sessions with Ruby were hard to arrange with Dean around twenty-four-seven. He floundered around inside his head for a bit but didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "Lillith's behind all this?" he asked, stalling for time. He would figure it out.

"Hmph," Ella said with a toss of her head. "There's not much these days Lillith's _not_ behind. The days of every demon for themselves are gone, Sammy.'

'It's Sam."

"Actually, it's Dean. My appointment, that is. With Dean. I should really get going. I hate to be late for a torture and kill session, don't you?"

Sam was unable to keep the panic from showing in his eyes. "What have you done with my brother?" he demanded, trying furiously to throw his powers at her. All he succeeded in doing was stirring a breeze through the hair of the vampire to his left side, the one he had shot earlier. He derived no satisfaction from the nervous look the vampire threw his way before taking a few wary steps backwards.

Ella laughed, clearly deliciously happy with the reaction she had incited. "Well, nothing yet. But I don't want to keep him waiting. Adieu, Sammy." With that she gave him a condescending royal wave and practically skipped out of the barn.

Sam roared his frustration, pulling with all his might at the ropes behind him. Still, no give.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Dean and Josh sat in silence for a good twenty minutes, the darkness providing a comfortable cover and eliminating the need for small talk. It was Josh who spoke first, his question clearly indicating what his thoughts had been focused on during the previous silence.

"What was she like when you got her out?" he asked.

Dean winced, knowing these questions were inevitably coming at some point but not wanting to deal with them yet. He supposed with the likelihood that Josh was going to be fang-kibble at some point if Sam didn't hurry his ass up, he may as well answer them honestly.

"Quiet," he said candidly. "She wouldn't look me in the eye and she didn't really talk much, just sorta went through the motions."

There was a long silence during which Dean grew increasingly uncomfortable. Once Josh broke the silence, however, Dean realized quickly he preferred the uncomfortable quietness.

"Damnit Dean!" Alex's brother yelled. "Do you realize how long it took her to get where she was?"

Dean didn't answer, knowing the question was rhetorical and not liking his chances of not getting popped on the nose if he tried to defend himself at this point.

He heard Josh sigh before continuing. "When I was eighteen, I didn't know about Red-Eyes and I took off to travel and go backpacking for a year then I went away to college for almost four years. While I was gone, Red-Eyes came a lot and Lexie got really, I don't know, _really_ quiet. Withdrawn. I mean, she had always been quiet around people she didn't know and never seemed to make any friends of her own growing up but after those years, she got a lot worse." The anger had drained from Josh's voice and it seemed he was just telling Dean the situation, an unmistakable sadness behind his words. "Red-Eyes was only getting a hold of her two, three times a year before. Maybe it doesn't seem ideal to you, Mr. Badass Hunter, us running away from Red-Eyes all the time, but she's a different person now. She still gets scared and sure, all the moving around sucks, but she's got a spark to her now that I hardly ever saw when she was younger. Her laughing and smiling and getting some semblance of enjoyment out of life makes it all worthwhile. She's almost happy." Dean could feel rather than see Josh rolling his head towards him from where he sat leaning up against a timber post. "Or she _was_," he added, the animosity creeping back into his last statement.

Dean didn't answer. He felt guilty and Josh's commentary was certainly feeding the flames, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. What was there to say? Sorry just didn't seem to cut it. Apparently he'd set Alex back eight years. Peachy. Talking about it wasn't going to help her now, was it?

Josh, on the other hand, wasn't really looking for an apology. He was figuring guilt was the only way he would get a location out of the stubborn hunter. He could tell Dean felt guilty, could tell he felt buckets of remorse. The guy wasn't unfeeling, after all, not by a long shot. In fact, Josh was banking on those feelings to find out where his sister was.

"Do you know how long it took that bastard to show up after she got locked up at Oceanview?" he asked the hunter accusingly.

Dean closed his eyes in the darkness, really wishing Josh would shut up, but again he didn't answer.

"Three days. Three fucking days. I only got to talk to her on the phone once for five minutes before Bryce decided I was feeding into her delusions and cut me off. She was pretty heavily medicated and I wasn't sure what to make of her babbling about angels and stuff. I realize now that she wasn't that out of it. And she told me you put her in there. Not Sam, not the two of you, not even Uncle Bryce. _You_. Dean."

"Look, I said I was sorry," Dean managed. "What more do you want from me?"

Josh suddenly felt the frustration and anger sweep back in at Dean's noncommittal words. "I want to understand how you could do it!" he vented. "You're a HUNTER for Christ's sake! You KNOW this stuff is real!"

"Look, I'm not gonna make excuses, I was wrong. I saw the evidence and I stupidly believed it."

"What evidence?" Josh asked, honestly wondering what kind of evidence could possibly convince a person who kills monsters as a full time occupation to disbelieve a very sane girl about hers.

"Dennison had videos of her hurting herself."

"Hmph. He tried to get me to watch some videos when he came to see me in jail. I refused." Josh didn't sound impressed.

"Well they were pretty damn convincing. And Sam found all this psych stuff about people who seem perfectly normal except they believe this one single thing that's a delusion. I mean, he researched the shit out of it and… and it all fit. I honestly thought she was doing it to herself." Dean didn't know why he was defending himself; he deserved the anger Josh was directing at him now, but he continued. "And she admitted you'd never actually seen Red-Eyes."

Dean heard Josh's fist slam into something, presumably the timber post behind him. "I didn't need to!" the ex-surfer fumed. "And doing it to herself? I came home one day to find her pinned to the wall with a fucking screwdriver through her shoulder, Dean! She'd been there for two hours trying to stay conscious and on her feet so the hole didn't rip any bigger." His voice almost cracked at the reliving of the memory. "That fucking bastard had rammed it in so hard I had to use both hands and brace my feet against the wall to pull it out. You tell me how a girl who weighs a buck twenty soaking wet can do that to herself!"

Dean remembered the round, jagged scar on Alex's shoulder that he had mistaken for a bullet wound at the time and swallowed hard. "Fuck, Josh," he croaked. "I said I was sorry. Nothing I can do can make up for it now, I know that, but I am sorry." He was glad for the cover of darkness as he winced in his discomfort, wishing he could just up and leave, ending the incredibly uncomfortable conversation. Goddamn Lillith and her fucking minions.

Josh was silent for another long minute. That Dean felt remorse was obvious but he suddenly realized the extent of Dean's guilt. He could hear it in his voice despite the hunter's best efforts to control the emotion and suddenly felt bad for pushing it. He was extremely curious to know the nature of the relationship that had formed between Dean and his sister when he had asked the hunter to find her in Texas but Dean was difficult to decipher. It was obvious from the short conversation he'd had with Lexie that she had developed feelings for the guy far beyond friendship and he could tell Dean cared about her in return, but he just wasn't sure in what way. After all, it wasn't as if he could just come out and ask 'so, were you banging my sister?'

"She doesn't blame you, you know," he offered.

Dean let out a snort of obvious disbelief.

"Seriously." Josh reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded, three-page letter from his sister. "Bro, you got a lighter on you?"

Dean replied in the affirmative by pulling his Zippo from his pocket and flicking it on. Through the dancing flicker of the small flame, he could see Josh holding out pieces of paper towards him.

"Top of page two," was all the blond man said.

Dean crawled forward and took the letter apprehensively. It had been sealed when Alex had given it to him to pass on to her brother so, as tempted as he and Sam had been to read it to ensure she hadn't written anything they didn't particularly want getting out, they trusted her and left it sealed. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and his knees bent up before him and he placed the letter on them as he shuffled the pages with one hand, the other holding his Zippo. The letter was handwritten in the same neat, cursive writing Alex had inscribed in the book she had given him for his birthday. He flipped to the second page and started reading at the top.

…_I actually saw one. He was beautiful. I swear, he glowed. For the first time in my life, I sensed something good instead of evil. An actual upside to my freak mojo. So I will officially admit, you were right and I was wrong. That unwavering faith I used to make so much fun of you for having, faith that things would be alright in the end and that something bigger was looking out for us, was totally justified after all._

Dean looked up, the small flame illuminating his grin for Josh. "She's talking about Cas, the angel she met." He shook his head and chuckled with the memory. "I swear, she practically swooned every time he came around. Couldn't stop staring at him."

"Keep reading," Josh instructed. "Next paragraph."

Dean shrugged and looked back down at the letter, feeling like he was invading Alex and Josh's privacy and intruding on a private moment by reading it.

…_Please don't blame Dean for this. You liked him from the start, you should trust that. He's been through so much and he keeps fighting, gives it everything and always does what he thinks is right. I've seen why he did what he did and I don't want you to blame him. He's a good guy all the way through and I'm willing to bet he's gonna save us all someday._

Dean looked up, dumbfounded at her words. They certainly didn't hold the same tone he heard in the accusation she had spat at him in Nebraska a few days ago when he first argued her decision to ditch Josh.

"See?" Josh said with a grin, noticing Dean's stunned expression. "She thinks you're friggin' Jesus."

Dean snorted and let the flame go out, surrounding them both in total darkness again.

Josh continued talking. "She's forgiven you, bro. The only one who hasn't is you."

"And you," Dean pointed out.

"So tell me where she is then and you can consider yourself completely absolved."

"Now who thinks they're Jesus?" Dean scoffed.

Josh laughed again and Dean felt a renewed fear for their fates. He genuinely liked this guy, despite the endless Oprah moments. Dean didn't make many real friends and, unfortunately, kept losing the few he did make. He was still reeling with grief over Adam, a brother he never even got to meet before having to bash his look-a-like's head in to save Sam, and really didn't know how much more loss he could stomach. He made a silent wish that Sam would hurry his ass up; that he was okay and would barge through that door any minute.

Josh had obviously forgotten about their predicament for the time being because he kept right on talking Dr. Phil style. "You don't owe her anything. Now you need to do what's best for her."

"I tried that, remember? It didn't work out so well for her. So this time I'm gonna do what _she_ wants and what _she_ wants is for you to go back to California and spend your days frolicking on the beach with Carrot-top and Tight-ass."

Josh ignored the derogatory nicknames for his old friends, entirely unoffended. "And do you really think I can do that with her still hiding out somewhere waiting for that bastard to finally finish her off?" he demanded. "Could you?"

Dean knew he couldn't. In fact, he understood Josh's persistence completely, but Lex had made him swear and he wouldn't - _couldn't -_ betray her twice.

"Look," Josh sighed. "I know you regret what you did but this is your chance to put it right."

"Regret?" Dean laughed a hoarse laugh with absolutely no humour in it. "I tell you what I regret. I regret ever meeting either one of you. I'm sorry I cost you your sister and I'm sorry I can't tell you where she is, but after what I did to her, I'm not gonna betray her trust again. I'm just _not_. So you might as well just give up. When she wants to find you, she will. Just go back to California and wait for her."

Josh stayed silent, contemplating Dean's last words, which had been spoken with true vigor and even a hint of anger. He suddenly realized there was no way the stubborn hunter was going to give in out of guilt. In fact, guilt was the very reason Dean _wouldn't_ give Lex up. Maybe he had been playing the wrong hand, trying the wrong approach. It occurred to him that perhaps Sam was the one he should be working on. Sam seemed less emotionally involved, after all. More practical. More logical. More willing to give up Lexie to get her annoying big brother out of his hair.

Hopefully the kid was all right and was planning his big brother's rescue this very moment.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Ivan had been clearly infuriated by Ella's appearance and was now standing before Sam, seething in anger. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, making low growling sounds as he stared at his captor. The female vampire was standing a few feet away, giving her leader a long, nervous look.

"Ivan?" she finally asked warily.

"What?" he snapped, spinning around to face her.

"Don't do it. You heard what Ella said. We don't want Lillith after us."

"Besides," the other male vampire chimed in, "you could die. His blood could kill you!"

Ivan appeared to be thinking, his fury subsiding. He turned back to Sam, his face holding an expression of interest and curiosity now, rather than anger. "But if it doesn't kill me," he ventured slowly, "then we won't have to worry about Lillith because I will be stronger than her."

"No!" the woman looked panicked, her eyes darting back and forth between Ivan and Sam. "It's not a good idea!"

Sam wished the underlings would pick up their debating skills because Ivan didn't look convinced and Sam was getting really nervous. He struggled frantically with the ropes behind him but still couldn't get free. He squirmed, a nauseous feeling taking hold in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the young-but-old vampire sucking on his neck. Besides, he needed to stay alive if he was going to stop Ella from killing Dean. The bitch was probably starting to torture him right now.

A slow smile spread across Ivan's face, his decision clearly made. He moved slowly and eagerly towards Sam, his vampire fangs suddenly revealing themselves and a bloodthirsty look taking over his narrowing eyes.

"No, Ivan, wait." Sam tried not to sound desperate as he squirmed and tried to pull himself away from the hungry vampire. "My blood will kill you, please, I'm telling you, you're making a mista…..urggg guh!"

The hunter lost his ability to talk the instant incredibly strong hands grabbed his face and shoulder and pain tore through his neck as the vampire's fangs ripped through his skin. He could feel Ivan's breath around the wound and felt violated more than anything else when the sucking started. He had done more than his share of drinking blood from Ruby, but it was a far worse feeling to be on the receiving end. Just two weeks ago, the ghouls who had taken the form of Adam and his mother had sucked blood from deep cuts in his wrists. If he thought that had been invasive, this was far, far worse.

The nightmare only lasted a few seconds before Ivan thankfully pulled away, wiping the back of his hand across his bloody mouth. He stepped back a few feet and stood still, seeming as if he were waiting to see what effects the few mouthfuls of Sam's blood would have.

"Ivan?" the woman asked warily, staring at him wide-eyed.

Sam stared too, hoping like Hell the bastard would drop dead.

Ivan took three really deep breaths, his hands spread out before him. For a moment, Sam thought the vampire was going to go into convulsions, hopefully due to blood-poisoning, but it became quickly apparent Ivan was smiling. Laughing even. He looked up sharply, a look of unmistakable euphoria behind the glazed over eyes.

_Oh crap_, Sam thought as Ivan launched himself at the restrained hunter again with a snarl, this time not holding back. Sam felt a hand yanking his head sideways by the hair before the vampire's teeth once again found the hole in his neck, this time mercilessly digging in and out repeatedly, ripping the skin to shreds as greedy mouthfuls were violently drawn out with every painful gulp. His legs were pinned to the post by Ivan's incredibly strong knee in his hip and he managed a strangled cry of pain and frustration when he realized he couldn't even put up a decent struggle. The brutal onslaught at his neck continued relentlessly and was draining him of energy quickly. Ivan was the only thing holding him up once his knees buckled and his weight slumped against the post. His last thought before the darkness overcame him was of Dean and a fleeting hope his big brother would come to save him.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC…**_

_A friend once told me I pick on Dean and take too much pleasure in hurting him so I decided to try and share the love (and by love I mean whumpage) in these couple of chapters but don't worry, Dean still gets more than his share later, lol. Thanks to everyone who is reading and for the alerts, faves, and reviews! _


	7. A Privilege Reserved for Dean

**CHAPTER 7**** - **_**A Privilege Reserved for Dean**_

Dean had managed to steer the conversation to cars by the time the lights flicked back on in the dingy cellar they had been imprisoned in for over an hour. Both men threw their arms up over their faces to ease the transition for their eyes and jumped to their feet, turning to face the stairs. The door opened and the two vamps trod heavily back into the room, being careful to miss the three-step hole Dean had made in his earlier flying attempt. Dean and Josh recognized the guns they held as Dean's own .45 and Josh's Desert Eagle .50 and both men gritted their teeth in irritation at the irony of their favourite weapons being used against them.

Both men were also contemplating the best way to overpower the vampires and get the Hell out of Dodge but had to reassess when Ella appeared at the top of the stairs, making her way down a few paces behind her vampire underlings.

"Ah," Dean spoke up, "finally. The boss is here." He threw a pointed look at the vampires, both of whom snarled back at him.

"That's enough," Ella snapped, stepping between the two burly men to stand in front of Dean and Josh. "Let's just get this done, shall we?" she smiled sweetly at Dean.

Dean twitched, not sure if he should attack now or wait for a more opportune moment. If Ella had the mojo, then an attack would be futile. If they couldn't get the guns away from the incredibly strong vampires quickly enough, then an attack would be futile. If there wasn't any salt or machetes upstairs, then an attack would be futile. If he couldn't find his brother, then an attack would be futile. Sensing a common theme, he held back, keeping himself taut and ready just in case a more opportune moment did present itself.

Ella smiled at him as if she could read his mind. "Don't waste your time," she said with an almost casual flick of her wrist. Dean suddenly found himself flying through the air, slamming into the wall behind him with enough force to wind him. He noticed Josh performing a similar aerobatic feat, coming to a sharp halt against the wall about fifteen feet away.

Well at least that answered the question about the mojo.

She looked back and forth between her two captives before settling her eyes on Dean. "Who's the new boy?" she asked, clearly referring to Josh.

"He's nobody," Dean dismissed. "So, I hear you're on Lillith's payroll?" he added, trying to take her attention off his friend.

Ella, however, wasn't so easily distracted and was still looking at Josh, her eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind about something and beckoned the two vampires still standing behind her. "He's yours," she said simply.

Both vampires perked up instantly, grins appearing on their faces as they advanced eagerly towards Josh with their fangs out.

"Whoa, wait, can't we work something out here?" Dean stammered, not wanting to watch vamps literally drink Lex's brother to death and feeling incredibly guilty all over again for letting him join the hunt.

"Dean!" Josh warned, giving the hunter a reproachful look to remind him of his earlier promise not to talk. As the blond man looked back at the vampires now just a few feet away, however, Dean didn't miss the unmistakable fear in his eyes.

"Not in here!" Ella snapped with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Take him upstairs, out of my way."

Josh was suddenly released from Ella's hold and fell forward a few inches to land squarely on his feet. Seizing what may be his only opportunity, he instantly swung at the closest vampire, hitting his face with one hand while stepping in and twisting the gun out of his hold with the other hand. Reclaiming his own Eagle, he swung it quickly at the other vampire that was lunging for him. He had been aiming for the face since that seemed to have had an effect on the bigger guy earlier but this time the vamp got too close too fast and Josh had to settle for shooting him in the shoulder.

It didn't have the desired effect and the vampire kept coming, aiming a hard punch at Josh's face. Although he managed to duck that one, he wasn't able to avoid the second one delivered by the first vampire, which hit him squarely in the gut, doubling him over with the force of it. Within seconds, the two strong vampires were punching Josh repeatedly until they had him gunless on the floor. The first one landed a hard kick in the downed man's stomach before they backed off, both of them starting to laugh. They reached down and grabbed the gasping prisoner, hauling him back up to his feet and dragging him towards the stairs.

Dean watched in horror as Josh literally fought for his life, furious at being pinned helplessly to the wall by Ella's demon power like a bug on a pin display. "Wait, Ella, wait," he pleaded, unable to think of any smartass wisecrack that would anger her enough to let Josh go. She clearly had no interest in surfer-boy whatsoever so directing her anger at himself wasn't going to do the least bit of good for Josh. He tried throwing a few shouted insults at the vampires but they virtually ignored him, far too eager to get their meal started. As he was dragged past Dean, still struggling though vastly overpowered, Josh managed to catch the hunter's eye and mouthed the words 'don't talk'.

Dean closed his eyes and cringed as the door slammed shut behind them at the top of the stairs, leaving him alone with Ella. It could have been worse, he told himself, trying to think on the bright side. It could have been Sam. His attempt at optimism, however, didn't make him feel any better at all, especially when the bangs and thumps of an obvious struggle upstairs suddenly stopped. _Oh fuck_, he breathed.

He opened his eyes to see Ella laughing at him. "Well that was entertaining now, wasn't it?" she sang.

"You bitch," he spat.

"Tsk tsk. I've heard about your potty mouth, Dean. I'm willing to bet we hear some of the more colourful phrases in your repertoire once we really get started."

"What is it you want?" he asked, his voice hoarse from anger and what he recognized as grief. "I don't know squat about the angels. They're not exactly big on sharing. So whatever it is you're looking for, you're barking up the wrong tree."

"The angels have a plan for you," Ella said bluntly. "I want to know what it is."

"That's what this is all about? Well I could've saved you a whole lotta hassle if you'd just said so 'cause I don't know. They don't tell me anything."

"Dean, do you have any idea how difficult it was to get our hands on you so we could have this little chat? The angels are like hawks, with their annoying, beady eyes watching everything all the time. If you think I'm gonna accept 'I don't know' for an answer, you're sadly mistaken. And if you don't talk," she added, "I'll just have to start interrogating your brother."

Dean couldn't hide the bolt of fear that shot through him at the mention of his brother.

Ella picked up on it. 'Oh yes," she gloated. "We've got Sammy too. The big 'demon-killer' is tied to a post in the barn. And, quite frankly, I don't like having you two angel magnets hanging around so I'm gonna keep moving things along. I've heard you're not much of a conversationalist anyway so I'll save you the boredom."

"And what? I'm supposed to say thanks?" Dean loaded on the sarcasm. _Sam was alive. And in the barn. All he had to do was get away from this bitch and go get his brother._

"Oh you won't be thanking me," the demon said ominously. She gave another slight flick with her fingers and Dean's left hand was forced flat against the wall next to his head, palm outwards and fingers splayed. Ella pulled a narrow, six inch blade from her jacket and took three long strides towards him, reaching up and ramming the blade through the middle of his palm into the concrete wall behind him.

Despite his best efforts not to, Dean let out a sharp cry as the stinging pain shot through his hand and up his arm. His first instinct was to pull at the hand but he forced himself to keep it still, clenching his teeth until the excruciating pain subsided to a tolerable level. He forced a smirk onto his face as he looked Ella in the eye. "Starting slow, I see."

The demon curled her lip in distaste at his mockery and Dean again cursed his rebellious Winchester mouth as Ella twisted the blade slowly, her face mere inches away from his. "How's that for getting started?" she purred at him as he groaned loudly, panting through clenched teeth to keep from screaming.

SPN-SPN-SPN

Ten year old Sam Winchester hated his brother. Or at least, this afternoon he did. Not only did the towering fourteen-year-old constantly hog the remote but he insisted on treating Sam like a little kid. Sitting with his arms folded and a pouty scowl on his face, Sam pretended to watch Dean's dumb Arnold Schwarzenegger movie while secretly devising his master plan. He would prove he wasn't a child anymore. He was every bit as smart and brave and capable as his big brother and tonight Dean and his father would finally have to admit this. They'd have to start listening to him.

Sam had spent two hours in the library with Dean this morning doing research and while his doofus big brother had spent the whole time flirting with some stupid girl from their school, Sam had figured out that the angry spirit his Dad was hunting was tied to the dead man's infant son's remains, which were buried next to the wife's in the cemetery by the park. But his Dad was so stubborn he wouldn't listen, insisting Sam's logic was flawed and the spirit must be tied to the necklace the man had religiously worn in life that was now in the possession of his great, great niece who lived a few towns over.

Dean had whispered at him to shut up and stop pestering. Told him Dad knew what he was doing and that if the Great John Winchester said Sammy was wrong, then Sammy was wrong. Tried to placate him by buying him his favourite snack at the convenience store next to the motel. Stupid Dean. Sam knew it had been his brother's last couple of bucks. Why would he waste it on a nougat-bar?

Now it was after midnight. Dad was gone, as usual, on his way over to the great, great niece's place to destroy the spirit's necklace. But Dean was a light sleeper. His annoying big brother seemed to have a built-in radar that was especially fine-tuned to Sammy-noises. Without fail he would always receive a groggy '_You okay Sammy_?' every time he so much as went to for a pee in the middle of the night. But tonight Sam was careful. And ever so quiet as he closed the motel door behind him without so much as a click. It was only a mile and a half to the cemetery and he ran it in less than half an hour.

He grew angrier and angrier at his family as he panted in exhaustion while he dug the tiny grave. Six feet down was a long way to go. Dean always made it look so easy. If they'd only listened to him, Dean and Dad would be here to help with the digging, instead of him having to prove himself. Dad insisted only the remains of the angry spirit or any of his own possessions could keep him in this world but Sam had read that the man had been utterly destroyed when his infant son had died and had spent hours every day for years on end at the baby's gravesite. Since his Dad had already destroyed the man's remains and the spirit was still wreaking havoc on local parents, it made sense to Sam that the only thing powerful enough to keep the guy here was the remains of his son – much like a possession would.

Sam wasn't really all that mad at his Dad; in fact, he expected to get ignored by him. But Dean? Dean should've listened. Dean should've sided with him. He just couldn't count on Dean anymore. His brother was too obsessed with trying to convince Dad to let him go on a hunt to be bothered with Sam's opinion.

He was just scraping the last inch of dirt off the tiny coffin, bracing himself for the gruesome sight he expected to find as he pulled open the lid, when he heard a loud noise from behind him, up in the graveyard and out of the hole. He barely had time to turn around when a man dressed in a thick, woven, black suit was launching himself down the hole at Sam. The man let out a piercing scream and Sam noticed he wasn't entirely solid. In fact he flickered right before he grabbed Sam by the shoulders and threw him.

The ten year old landed at the side of the hole he had left sloped so he could climb out, hitting the dirt with a forceful thud. He cried out in pain but quickly got his feet under him and scrambled up the slope. This was the angry spirit his Dad had described seeing the night before! He got a few steps towards the cemetery gates before the man was upon him, bony fingers once again digging into the boy's shoulders. Sam screamed as the spirit squeezed him hard enough to make his shoulder make a popping sound. Sam struggled in vain to pry the hands off and was once again thrown, this time sailing a good fifteen feet through the air before crashing into a large, engraved headstone.

Blinking tears away, Sam was absolutely terrified. His back hurt, his shoulder hurt, and his arm hurt. He was alone and unarmed except for a flashlight and a lighter. Driven by the single thought of getting back to the motel, to Dean and to safety, he once again staggered to his feet and started to run. He made it as far as a large mausoleum before the spirit appeared in front of him again. With a sharp cry of fear, he turned sharply and yanked the door to the mausoleum open, darted inside and slammed it shut behind him. His shaking hands pulled his flashlight out and shone it on the door. There was a lock consisting of a wooden bar that slid into a bent metal receptor at the side and he threw all his effort into slipping it into place. Once this was done, he shone his light around the small room, far too scared of what was outside to be creeped out by the rows of square hollows on the walls. Only about half of them were occupied and those were sealed up with concrete. There was nothing else in the room. Nowhere to hide and no way out.

He stared in silence at the door for a few seconds, willing it to stay shut. His efforts turned out to be futile for a few seconds later it flew open with a loud bang, slamming hard against the wall behind it. Sam screamed again and turned away, realizing he had nowhere to go. He was trapped! He ran to the far wall and fell to his hands and knees, crawling into the farthest of the empty coffin chambers. He was a small kid and he squeezed in as far as he could, pressing himself up against the back of the dark, cold chamber.

Despite the darkness, he could see the face of the angry spirit at the opening, on its knees and peering in at him with a hissing snarl. It reached a terrifying claw-like hand in, swiping just inches from his face. Sam screamed.

Then he heard a shotgun blast. The creature screamed and fell away from view. Sam heard another blast, then another three in rapid succession. He closed his eyes and didn't make a sound, holding his breath. There was a second of silence before another piercing scream rang out, just like the one the spirit had released at him when it had first found him digging up its son's grave. Sam heard banging and grunting for a few seconds and was tempted to crawl out to see what was going on but froze when the shotgun landed on the floor in front of the hole he was hiding in. It looked like an old Winchester 1887 model.

_Dad's old Winchester 1887._

That particular shotgun only had five rounds, which meant it was now empty. "Dean!" he screamed, pulling himself towards the opening and having no doubts as to the identity of his rescuer.

"Sammy stay there!" his brother shouted back, never coming into view. Sam froze, torn as to whether or not to obey. He heard footsteps, two sets of footsteps, running away, fading into the night. The instinct to obey his father's number one rule of '_always listen to your brother_' won over and he slunk back to the deepest part of the coffin chamber, still sore all over and still terrified.

_Please don't let it kill Dean, please don't let it kill Dean, please don't let it kill Dean…_

What seemed like forever but was probably a matter of thirty seconds passed by in silence. Sam tried to keep still but couldn't stay there any longer not knowing. He started again to move to the mouth of the opening but just as he pulled his small frame out, a figure appeared at the door.

Oh God, it wasn't Dean! And if the spirit looked angry before, he was completely pissed now. He lunged at Sam, who dropped back down to his knees and tried to clamber back into his hiding spot. The thing seized one of his ankles, yanking it painfully backwards. Sam screamed as he dug his claws into the dirt floor, trying in vain to move forward into the safety of the confines of the hole instead of backwards. As he was dragged out into the open, the rough hands grabbed his neck from behind, squeezing hard. His cry of pain was cut off by the hold on his throat but the choking only lasted a second or two. Quite suddenly, the hand simply disappeared, seeming to dissolve into a dust that trickled down his sweaty t-shirt.

He scrambled forward, away from the monster and away from the pain, back into the dark depths of the coffin chamber. He was almost at the back when he heard the spirit moving in the mausoleum again, reaching into the hole behind him. He flipped himself over and started kicking at it desperately with his foot. "No! Go away!" he screamed. "Go Away!"

"Sammy! Sammy! It's me!" he heard from the figure he had just kicked.

"Dean?" he answered in an embarrassingly croaky voice, not waiting for a reply before launching himself back out of the hole.

"Yeah, runt. It's me."

Dean had come for him. Dean had saved him. Right then and there Sam realized without a single doubt that Dean would always save him. It was a truth he would carry with him for the rest of his days.

Sam was pulled the last foot out of the hole, his brother's worried face looking him up and down before pulling him into a hug. He returned it wholeheartedly, not caring that he hadn't allowed Dean to hug him since he was eight, claiming he was too old for that kind of stuff.

"You came after me," he said, feeling stupid and incompetent and ever so much like the little kid he was trying to prove he wasn't.

Dean scoffed, staggering to his feet. "Of course. You're my little brother."

"You gonna tell Dad on me?"

"Of course not. You're my little brother." Dean grinned at him. "Besides, you were right. I torched the baby's bones and Mad-daddy went poof."

"You okay?" Sam gasped, noticing a dark red bloodstain growing on the front of his brother's shirt.

"I'm fine," his brother answered, a little too quickly. "Let's go Sammy."

Then Dean's hands were on him again, tapping his face. "Sammy? Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam batted them away, wondering why his brother sounded so worried when Dean was the one bleeding. "Dean... what...?"

He suddenly realized the voice calling him wasn't Dean's and those weren't Dean's hands on his face and he wasn't ten years old and his neck hurt like Hell...

SPN-SPN-SPN

After twisting the blade piercing Dean's hand a full three hundred and sixty degrees, Ella yanked it out and took a step back. "Hmmm, what next?" she asked him, almost sweetly. She traced the tip of the blade across his neck, an amused look on her face. "Naaa, the neck would be too quick." She ran it slowly down across his chest. "Hmph, been done," she pouted. Finally she zig-zagged its tip down across his abdomen with a contemplating look, before sliding it down over his belt and lower, suddenly jabbing it into the wall behind him between his legs.

Dean couldn't help but flinch at the knife's proximity to its apparent next target. He managed to hide it quickly though, subtly pushing himself a smidge higher on the wall and giving her an arrogant smile. "Now that would be your loss," he winked at her, silently pleading she would change her mind and stab something else. He didn't really need a spleen, after all. And he still had a kidney to spare.

"My, you are cocky," she said, then laughed out loud as she realized the potential double meaning of her own joke. "I mean, aren't you just a little worried right now?" She jiggled the knife to get her point across.

"Never wanted kids anyway," Dean lied, managing to hold her steady gaze.

She pulled the knife back out quickly, pressing it to one side as she did so, slicing through his jeans and cutting into his inner thigh. Despite the sharpness of the pain, Dean withheld the reaction she wanted, instead gracing her with only a wince and a chortled grunt.

"How's that?" she taunted, stepping back and watching as a dark outline of blood spread on the leg of the hunter's jeans. "Oops. Hope I didn't hit an artery or anything."

Dean scoffed, inwardly hoping the same thing. "Alistair would have given you a C-minus," he fired back, realizing antagonizing her was stupid but not caring at this point. "Nah, make that a D. For Dumb bitch."

The pretty demon ignored the insult and cocked her head to the side, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You know, you're right" she said, not sounding offended. "I think I might have been going about this all wrong."

"Oh? How's that?"

"I forgot that you were on Alistair's rack for thirty years without breaking," she explained, matter-of-factly. "Sadly, I don't have that long. Physical pain didn't make you crack then so I'm not gonna waste my time here."

"Well, I can dig that," Dean quipped, though a question suddenly popped into his head that made him extremely nervous. _What was the alternative? Please don't let it involve Sam._

"We all know you don't give a crap about yourself, Dean. But you do have a weakness."

_Oh no_, Dean thought. _Sam._

Ella walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted up at the door. "Ty!"

A few seconds later, the door opened and one of the vampires who had dragged Josh away entered, walking down a couple of steps before answering her. Dean was sickened to see he had blood all around his mouth and dripping down his chin.

"Yeah?"

"That one still alive?" she asked him.

"Yeah. We were taking our time – waiting for Ivan – thought he might want some," the vamp answered.

"Well stop. Bring him back down here," she ordered. "And bring that torch I asked you morons to get."

The vampire was clearly disappointed with the command, not wanting to give up his current meal, but Dean felt a surge of hope for two reasons. First, Josh was alive. He had thought for sure the likeable Brenton had been killed, sucked dry like a human lemon after a shot of tequila. Second, if Ella was using Josh as incentive, it meant she really didn't have Sam because he definitely would have been her first choice to make Dean talk.

Twenty seconds later the door reopened and the two vamps made their way noisily down the stairs, hoisting a slumped Josh between them. They each had an elbow hooked in one of his armpits and roughly dragged his feet over the rickety wooden treads, giving an extra yank when his legs fell through the hole. They brought him over, stopping next to Ella, who gave them a disapproving look.

"I thought you said he was okay," she accused.

"No, I said he was alive," Ty corrected. "But don't worry, he'll be fine," he added with a grin. "He's just woozy." He fisted his fingers in Josh's hair and yanked his head up. Dean winced at the nasty gaping wound on the blond man's neck and noticed a similar one on the inside of his arm in his left elbow crease, blood streaking out of both. His eyes were closed and he certainly didn't look fine.

The vampire bobbed Josh's head up and down like a puppet, changing his voice to a high-pitched imitation of a little girl. "I'm sowwy Ella," he mimicked, "I seem to have fainted wike a wittle pwincess." Both vamps burst into laughter and Dean decided Ty's head would be the first one to roll.

Ella huffed her annoyance but grabbed the small propane torch the second vampire had in his free hand. "Never mind," she snapped, "This'll wake him up." With that she turned it on and held the blade of her knife in the flame for a minute, giving Dean an evil smirk as she did so. She then pressed the blade hard against the open wound on Josh's neck, jolting him awake with a strangled scream.

"Vhat de fuck!" he choked out as he struggled to reach full lucidity, trying to wrestle his way out of the strong arms holding him up. Still weak from blood loss, it was obvious to all he really didn't have a chance of breaking free and he quickly gave up. He managed to lift his head to glare at Ella, who gave him a quick smile.

"Just cauterizing that nasty hole in your neck." She gave Dean another vicious glance before addressing Josh again. "If Dean here doesn't cooperate, I may need you to last a while. No taking the quick and painless way out."

She turned back to Dean, who was still pinned to the cellar wall with her demon mojo. "Now, one more chance, Dean, or we're gonna have to listen to your friend here screaming all night."

"I told you, bitch, I don't know what the angels' plans are," he spat. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. You're just gonna kill him anyway."

"True," Ella countered, "But I would be quick and merciful about it." She spun and grabbed Josh's arm, jabbing the still-hot knife into the other vampire bite wound. Josh gritted his teeth and stifled an out-loud cry so it emerged more as a series of strained, gasping pants as she held the blade in place.

Dean winced at the smell of the burning flesh and realized it probably would have been better if Josh _had_ already been dead. At least for Josh.

The demon finally stopped and faced Dean again. "There. Now maybe he won't bleed out before I get to the fun stuff," she smirked. "Come now Dean, haven't enough people died painful, agonizing deaths on your account?" She waved the blade back and forth in front of Dean's face.

"Jim Murphy." She spun and slashed swiftly at Josh, cutting a four inch slice through his t-shirt and into his chest, getting a sharp cry of surprise and pain out of him.

"Caleb Black." She sliced the knife leisurely across Josh's upper arm, carving another deep cut.

"Marshall Hall." She put one on the other arm at an excruciatingly slow pace, giving Josh a matching set.

"Victor Henrickson." This time it was the collarbone, disturbingly close to the neck.

"Pamela Barnes." Back to the chest.

Dean clenched his teeth and tried to look away from Ella and her victim, who was gasping and wincing, trying his hardest not to give the demon the satisfaction of making him cry out.

How in the hell did she know all of these people? And how did she know that every one of them was dead because of the Winchesters, mostly because of Dean? How did she know he carried the weight of each of their deaths with him every day?

"That's just a few of the ones you got killed, Dean. Then there's Hell, of course."

_Oh dear God._ Was she going to launch into every soul he'd tortured for Alistair? They could be here all freakin' week if she did, and Josh would look like he'd been run through a paper shredder a hundred times over. Dean swallowed as he realized his friend didn't look like he'd last another twenty minutes. He definitely wouldn't make it though Dean's lengthy guilt list from the pit. Dean had tortured so many souls that they had become just faceless blurs to him. His memory couldn't even distinguish between the screaming voices or the myriad of desperate pleas for mercy he'd gleefully ignored from his nameless victims. He really didn't think he could stomach a roll call.

"John Winchester." Ella didn't bother to take a swipe at Josh this time as she practically purred Dean's father's name. The name that shot a mass of diverse and conflicting emotions through the hunter. Guilt, sorrow, inadequacy, remorse, anger, grief, and shame to name but a few. So she wasn't naming souls he'd tortured in Hell but instead reminding him of the father he had sent there.

"John Winchester," Ella repeated for effect. "Daddy dearest who suffered over a century of torment to save his weak, simpering, pathetic little boy." As if suddenly remembering the point of her list, she perked up and turned to drive the knife slowly into Josh's abdomen, just an inch or so deep but twisting it slowly as she did so. Still held on his knees between the two vampires and looking on the verge of passing out again, Josh's eyes shot wide open once more and this time he did scream, much to Ella's satisfaction. He looked Dean's way briefly before his head fell forward but his eyes were too glazed to have taken in the hunter's apologetic look. Dean was fairly certain at this point that Josh was going to be added to Ella's previous list, right under Pamela Barnes.

The demon turned back to Dean. "You know, Dean, your dad could have just died a nice, clean death on some hunt somewhere and danced his merry way to the big ol' Pearly Gates. But the poor bastard got stuck with you as a sorry excuse for a son and it's pretty obvious from your track record that you," she pointed the dripping knife at him, "Are just plain bad luck to be around. So instead, the great John Winchester was relegated to being the hottest new form of downstairs entertainment in centuries, with demons lining up to get their turn at him on the rack. Ripping at him. Tearing at him. The air ripe with the scent of his burning flesh and the delicious sound of his agonizing screams. If Hell had iTunes, Dean, your daddy's screaming would have been the number one download for decades. Now why don't you, for once, give a friend a break." She glanced back at Josh, giving his knee a rough, annoyed nudge with her foot until his head jerked back up. "Are you really gonna sit here for hours while another friend needlessly dies a long, slow, painful death? Show some mercy. Hasn't your righteousness cost the innocent people of the world enough?"

Dean gave her a cold, hard stare. "I thought you said you were gonna spare me the monologing."

SPN-SPN-SPN

"Sammy, wake up."

_No, that voice definitely wasn't Dean's. _Sam fought to focus on it, using it as an anchor to pull him out of the darkness.

"Sammy."

_It was Ruby. God he hated it when she called him Sammy. That was a privilege reserved for Dean._

"Drink," he heard her order him, her hand holding up his head.

He still couldn't see anything except blurs but he suddenly became acutely aware of a familiar scent. A scent that awoke a primal need within and he found himself reaching for its unknown source in front of him. It was the scent of blood. Demon blood. His hands felt Ruby's small arm and as his fingers wrapped roughly around it, he could feel the warm wetness of her blood dripping over them. He pulled it towards him, quickly sniffing out the open cut and latching his mouth on, drinking greedily much like Ivan had done to him.

His strength returned in seconds, riding on the heels of the euphoric high he always received when he drank his drug of choice. He focused his eyes to see Ruby sitting on her knees in front of him, her jacket slung off one side to expose the arm she had cut for him. He was on the floor in front of the post he had been tied to, though his wrists were no longer bound. There were two bodies lying still a few paces behind her, both beheaded. Sam recognized them as the female and the male vampires that had still been alive when Ivan had decided to get a taste of Sam.

"Where's Ivan?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"You're welcome," Ruby replied in a clipped tone, pulling her leather jacket back on and handing Sam his recovered gun and cell phone.

"Thanks," Sam said curtly. "Now where's Ivan?"

"If Ivan's the kid vamp, then he went towards the house a couple of minutes ago."

"The house. Is that where they've got Dean?" Sam pushed past her and headed for the barn door. "She's gonna torture Dean. I've gotta get my brother."

"Okay, let's be careful here," Ruby warned him, running to catch up. "This isn't random vampires out for a meal. This is all Lillith's doing."

Sam paused and spun to face her. "How do you know that?" he demanded.

She scowled at him before answering, clearly not happy at the distrust in his voice. "Both the barn and the house have script painted all over them. Symbols to ward off angels, preventing them from entering or seeing what's going on inside. That's the big-time, Sam. No half-ass nest of vamps figured out how to do that." She was still glowering at him, her hands folded across her chest. "You still don't trust me?" she accused.

Sam sighed his frustration, not really caring if Ruby's feelings were hurt at this point. "I didn't see any markings," he stated.

"Well, of course not," she snipped. "You're not dead. And you're not a demon, Sam. No matter how much blood you drink, you'll never become a demon."

_Why was she always reassuring him of that? _

Sam remembered the symbols all over the funeral home in Wyoming that Alistair had put there so he could capture and kill two reapers without the angels interfering. He and Dean had only been able to see them at the time because they had been technically dead, a temporary state induced by Pamela so they could find and see reapers.

The symbols would explain why he hadn't been taken to the house once captured. The demons probably figured the angels would find the Winchesters the second they stepped outside and would send in the cavalry to save Dean. He snorted. The angels were more likely to get Dean killed than to save him. Just look at what had happened with Alistair. If anyone was going to save Dean, it would be Sam. That scared, little ten-year old boy was all grown up and now it was his turn to look out for his family.

"Why go to all this trouble?" he asked her. "What does this have to do with the angels?"

"Rumour has it your brother is the only one who can stop the Apocalypse, Sam. If Lillith knows this, then it kinda makes sense she wants him out of the way. And it makes sense the angels are keeping a pretty close eye on him to stop Lillith getting her hands on him. No demon likes to tangle with angels." Her eyes softened a little as she stared at him and he thought he almost saw real compassion in them. "Let's go get him then," she offered, picking a pair of hedge-trimmers off the wall and yanking them in two. She handed one side to Sam and gestured towards the door.

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He headed quickly outside and towards the house, Ruby beside him.

"Remember, Sam," she said when they were about halfway there, "my blood is making you strong right now but drinking it can't actually replace the blood the vampires took from you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're not a vampire. My blood isn't food; it'll go through you like juice. You just absorb the bonus ingredients. The effects of the demon power in the blood are simply masking your injury."

"I'm not injured."

"Yes you are. You're suffering from severe blood loss right now. You need to keep a decent amount of my blood in your system for a while okay? Until your body can replenish your own blood."

Sam stopped. That made sense. "Okay, I'll need a full flask," he demanded, holding his hand out.

Ruby sighed and shrugged out of her jacket, her supposed reluctance not entirely convincing. That small, nagging voice in the back of Sam's head was whispering that he was doing exactly what she wanted, but his need to save Dean overrode it and he silenced it swiftly. Ruby sliced the same quickly-healing cut open on her arm and held a flask below the flow of blood, filling it up before screwing the cap back on and handing it to Sam. Sam tucked it in his pocket and wordlessly continued towards the house. Ruby staggered the first few steps, clearly feeling the effects of her extra donation, but followed him down the drive.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**TBC…**_

_Next up: Can juiced-up Sam save Dean and Josh? And where's Ivan?_


	8. From Both Sides of the Knife

**CHAPTER 8 - _From Both Sides of the Knife_**

It was apparent Ella was getting frustrated at her lack of progress. She turned the knife back on Dean, pressing the point against his face right under his eye.

Dean looked warily down at the blade, which was still coated in Josh's blood. "A little unsanitary, don't you think?" he quipped.

Ella glared at him but turned and handed the knife to Ty. "Ty, you wanna clean this off for me?" she asked sweetly.

Ty smiled as he took the knife and slowly licked it clean before handing it back to Ella. The demon pressed the knife back against Dean's cheek, this time piercing the skin and allowing a drop of blood to glide down the hunter's face. "Better?"

"Vampire spit? Now that's just plain dirty."

Ella stepped back, her jaw tight with anger. She glared at Dean for a few seconds, clearly trying to decide a new course of action. She turned to look at the two vampires still holding up an awake but weak-looking Josh, whose t-shirt was all but soaked in his own blood. "Okay, new plan," she said suddenly. "If Dean here doesn't tell me what I want to know in thirty seconds, I want you two to turn this useless ingrate." She pointed the knife at Josh.

Both vampires and both captives snapped their heads up, eyes widening at the unfavourable prospect.

"But we can't," Ty argued. "We've got rules about turning. Ivan has to approve any turn; he's our leader."

"_I'm_ your leader now you inbred halfwit!" Ella snapped at him. "If I say turn him into a vampire, you turn him!"

"So you think a low-level grunt demon like yourself can lead my people better than I?" came a steady voice from the top of the stairs. All heads turned to see Ivan standing there, pausing in the doorway for a more dramatic entrance before making his way slowly and purposefully down the stairs.

Ella glared at him. "Ivan! You're supposed to be watching the other one!" she snapped, not hiding her anger at the insubordination.

He walked up to her and folded his arms across his chest in a confrontational manner. "Oh, he doesn't need watching anymore," he smirked.

Dean's heart lurched. _What did that mean?_

Ella's eyes narrowed and she jabbed the knife in the air at the teenage vampire, looking as scared as she did angry. "You'd better not have killed him you bloodsucking ingrate! Lillith will kill us all! She wants him for herself!"

Ivan laughed out loud but didn't answer her. Instead he knocked the knife out of her hand with untrackable speed and rammed his other fist into her chest. The hit launched the demon into the air and across the cellar, slamming her into the far wall a good thirty feet away.

Dean watched the exchange with surprise and interest, both of which were short lived for as soon as Ella hit the concrete, her hold on Dean was lost and he dropped away from the wall. Always quick to assess a situation and react accordingly, he instantly lunged for Ty, who was still staring bug-eyed at the teenage vamp. Vampires were strong, but not _that_ strong and Ty was clearly as surprised at his boss's new mega-strength as Dean was.

The hunter knew it would have been a smarter move to make a run for it. Both vamps had their guns holstered to hold up Josh and with Ella busy picking herself up off the floor, Dean could have sprinted up the stairs and probably reached the barn before they even realized he was gone.

But Dean wasn't wired that way. Leaving a friend behind was never an option.

He swung his uninjured right hand at Ty, hitting him squarely in the jaw. The surprised vamp staggered back and quickly released Josh to turn his attention on Dean. His fangs popped back out in his anger and he launched himself at his attacker, knocking the hunter to the floor. Dean fought back but the vampire on top of him was far stronger and it was all he could do to keep Ty's fangs out of his neck. Pinned on his back on the cold, hard floor, he reached out and managed to get a hold of Ella's dropped knife, wrapping his bleeding palm around its hilt. He raked it as hard as he could across the neck of the vampire on top of him, pressing his lips tightly together as a spray of blood painted his face.

His cut was deep and it stopped Ty's attack just enough for Dean to push his way out from under him. He looked around to see Ella slamming Ivan into the timber post in the middle of the room with sufficient force to shake the whole floor above. _Damnit! They needed to get out of here quick before the entire ceiling caved in!_

Ivan rushed forward at Ella again, his fangs coming out in his rage and the two clashed heavily as brutal punches were thrown, some hitting their mark and others successfully being dodged. Dean rolled to his knees and glanced over at Josh, who hadn't managed to break free from the other vampire and didn't look like he'd be able to do so any time soon. Dean realized his friend had lost too much blood and wasn't going to be any help at all with the fighting, which left him alone to take care of the two vamps and the winner of the explosive duel that was going down. Not good odds.

He turned his attention back to Ty. The knife had cut deep, but not enough to sever his head. The vampire was coming after him again, this time reaching into his waistband to pull out Dean's own .45 and aim it at the hunter. Dean thought for certain the irate vampire was going to shoot and braced himself for the bullet's impact. Instead, however, a weapon of some sort struck the vampire form behind, knocking him forward on the floor in front of Dean. The hunter's eyes widened in surprise at his unusual stroke of luck and he noticed that the thrown weapon sticking out of a writhing Ty's back looked a lot like half a pair of gardening shears.

He jerked his head up to see Sam leaping over the gaping hole of the missing steps, a look of pure rage on his face. He could also make out the small form of Ruby moving behind his brother with what appeared to be the other half of the shears in her hand.

_His brother had come through for him._

Dean didn't waste any time on words of greeting but instead leapt on Ty while he was down, sawing at his already cut neck with the small blade he still held in his hands.

"Should've stayed in BonTemps you prick!" he spat as he felt the vampire's neckbone crunch under his blade. He spun to see Sam walking swiftly past him and right into the fierce and intense fight going on between Ella and Ivan. The super-strong vampire had Ella up against the wall and Dean thought she was going to ditch her meat suit and take off in a spiral of black smoke when his little brother grabbed Ivan by the shoulder and gave him a forceful shove to the side. Ivan's eyes widened at the sight of Sam and he hesitated slightly before taking a swing back at him.

That swing was intercepted by Ruby, who swept the shears she was carrying in a forceful arc aimed at the teenage vampire's neck. It fell just short but Ivan turned his attention to her, taking a few threatening steps forward before aiming a hard punch at her face. It landed and she flew clear across the room, slamming into the wall next to Dean with a sickening smack.

The second vampire, who had until now been maintaining his position of holding Josh in place and watching everything with slack-jawed horror, clearly figured out the tables were turning. Though it wasn't clear yet who now held the upper hand, Dean noticed him draw Josh's Eagle from his pants and look around the room, trying to decide who to shoot first. Dean leapt towards him instantly, certain he would decide Sam was the biggest threat. He had to take him out before he fired at his brother. He launched himself into the air even though he knew deep down he was too far away to get there in time. To the hunter's surprise, however, Josh managed to gather enough strength from his kneeling position to give the vampire a sharp elbow in the groin.

The gun was never fired at Sam but the painful jab to the jewels did succeed in angering the vampire enough into deciding to shoot Josh first. The burly vamp turned the gun on the bleeding man next to him and his finger was just squeezing the trigger when Dean barreled into him, knocking him off his feet. The gun went off, releasing a bullet that actually grazed the side of Josh's head before the Eagle skittered away towards the dark corner of the room as the vampire and Dean tumbled roughly to the floor.

Although quick to recover, Dean found himself under the vampire's bulk and on the painful end of his fists. He could see Sam from his peripheral but his brother's attention was completely focused on Ella, who was leaning against the far wall with the youngest Winchester standing in front of her, his back to Dean. Ivan seemed to be making a run for it, taking the steps two at a time as he fled the scene.

Dean tried to roll out of hitting range as the vampire on top of him swung another fist down at the hunter's face. He couldn't get twisted enough to dodge the hit so he was startled when no impact came. He looked back up with surprise to see the vampire's headless body teetering above him. Dean gave it a hard shove just to be sure it fell away from him and struggled to sit up.

Ruby was standing a few feet away, bloody shears in her hands and a smug sneer on her face as she watched the severed head roll towards her feet. Dean didn't waste the effort thanking her for the save but grudgingly gave her a quick nod as he shoved the dead man's body off his feet and stood up.

Sam was yelling at Ella, standing a few feet in front of her with his arm outstretched in her direction.

"Where is Lillith?!" he demanded, jerking his hand and inciting a strangled scream out of the demon.

Dean stared, not interfering but acutely aware of the sickening feeling spreading through his insides as he watched his brother wielding his demon power. Sam looked almost casual - he wasn't even breaking a sweat. Castiel had told Dean about how Sam had killed Alistair with ease. Alistair was one of the most powerful demons around, one of the highest of Lillith's upper level henchmen.

A few months before, Sam had been useless against the very same demon. Dean remembered Alistair laughing as he easily sent Sam flying at the church where they had found Anna. Cas had seemed disturbed as he calmly told Dean how Sam had practically smiled when he told Alistair "_Now I can kill." _The question was _how_? How could he now kill when he could only exorcise before? Sam wasn't talking about it.

Admittedly though, Dean wasn't asking.

"I told you," Ella gasped. "I don't know, I don't know. I'm just a foot soldier! A grunt!" She looked petrified and Dean almost felt sorry for her. Almost, but not quite. He certainly wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his brother's demon mojo.

"Fine then," Sam said coldly. "You're of no use to me." He clenched his outstretched fist and twisted, sending Ella into a fit of agonized screams as orange lights streamed out of her eyes and open mouth.

"Sam!" Dean stepped forward, unable to stand and watch any longer. _God he hated this psychic shit._ He grabbed his brother's shoulder, not really sure why he felt compelled to stop him. "Don't kill her! There's a girl in there, remember! She may still be alive."

Sam hesitated, resisting the tug on his shoulder for an instant before finally relenting and turning to look at Dean. His brother had blood spatter on his face and all over his shirt and the faded bruise from Josh on his cheek had been replaced by a new one, but otherwise he looked to be relatively okay. He clenched his teeth in annoyance at Dean's hypocrisy, since Dean was usually the one telling him to use Ruby's knife instead of his powers, but Sam relented and pulled back. He dropped the killing power he had been about to throw at the demon down to the 'exorcising' level before turning back towards her to finish the job. He watched with very little satisfaction as the jet of black smoke poured from her mouth and swirled around the floor before disappearing into it with desperate, flickering tendrils.

He had badly wanted to kill her but didn't want to raise Dean's suspicions about the source of his heightened powers. He turned back to face the room, taking in the situation. Dean looked hurt but was on his feet and mobile and therefore doing well by Winchester standards. Ruby was fine, as usual. Josh, on the other hand, didn't look so good.

_Crap. Josh had seen what he had done._

The blonde man was still sitting in the kneeling position facing Sam and swaying slightly. He was covered in blood and Sam had no clue how much of it was his. But the most disturbing part was that Josh's blue eyes were open and fixed on Sam, a bit of shock and even wariness within them. It only lasted a second or two before they blinked and a look of relief washed over them, but Sam cursed his own carelessness nonetheless.

He turned towards his brother. "Dean, you okay?"

Dean nodded, jolted into action by the familiar post-fight words. "Yeah, let's get outta here though. Ella was working for Lillith so we gotta split now." He ripped a strip of cloth off the bottom of his shirt and wrapped it around his bleeding palm before grabbing the two guns from the floor and tucking them in his pants.

Ruby moved towards the stairs. "He's right Sam, we need to move."

Dean moved over to Josh and helped him to his feet. It was difficult since Josh wasn't able to support much of his own weight and by the time they were upright, he was leaning very heavily on Dean.

Sam looked back at Ella. The girl was beginning to stir. He had assumed she was dead but suddenly her eyes opened and Sam felt a pang of guilt for what he had been about to do to her. Killing a demon, even using his powers, killed the host. When exorcizing, he could differentiate between the demon and the human but when killing, it was all or nothing. She looked scared and he stepped over to her quickly to help her.

Ruby looked impatient. "We need to go now! Leave them; we'll call 9-1-1 once we're out of here."

Dean glared at her, taking a few steps towards the stairs with Josh. "They're coming with us," he hissed as he passed her. "You, on the other hand, are more than welcome to stay."

Ruby hissed but ducked in front of him and led the way up and out of the basement, garden shears held out in front of her. Dean followed, glancing back to check on Sam before proceeding through the door at the top.

Ella was pretty banged up, expectedly so after the nasty fight with Ivan, but overall was in surprisingly good shape. The demon had obviously been easy on her chosen meat suit - relatively speaking of course. Sam surmised she had a ton of bruises, a few nasty cuts, and a badly sprained wrist. Physically, she was very lucky. She would heal. Psychologically, on the other hand, he had no idea. He didn't really have the time or the patience to worry about that but he pulled on his concerned Sammy look and soothingly assured her he was there to help as he picked her up gently and carried her up the stairs after Dean and Josh.

The driveway seemed unbearably long as Dean tried to ignore the stinging pain from his hand and his inner thigh, concentrating on holding Josh up. Surfer-boy was surprisingly heavy and although he seemed to be trying to support himself, he wasn't succeeding in the least.

"Don't be such a pansy," Dean joked, giving the man another hoist up.

"Fuck you," Josh winced with half a grin, unable to think of a witty comeback.

Dean laughed. "Wow, a little torture sure makes you cranky."

"So sorry if I'm being a downer."

"Wait, don't tell me this is your first time!" Dean teased. "Oh my God, you're a torture virgin."

"Hey," Josh defended, "I prefer the term torture-rookie." He managed a sideways look up at Dean. "Just how many times have _you_ done this, bro?"

Dean sighed. "Too many to count," he said seriously. _From both sides of the knife_.

When they reached the Impala, Ruby was already there, leaning against the side with her arms folded across her chest. Dean scowled as he approached, ignoring her as he leaned Josh up next to her while he dug out his keys.

Sam walked around to the passenger side still carrying Ella, who had her arm around his neck and was crying into his shoulder. He opened the back door and lowered her in before looking across the Impala's roof at the others. "Dean you okay to drive?" he asked, doubtfully.

For the first time, Dean noticed the shredded skin and the streaking blood on Sam's neck.

"Shit, Sam, I should be asking you that. A vamp get a hold of you?" he asked, his voice turning husky with concern.

"Ivan," Sam acknowledged, his hand moving to cover the messy wound. "I'm fine though, he didn't drink much."

Josh mumbled something about the better looking you are the better you must taste, but by this point his words were slurring and both Sam and Dean just laughed and rolled their eyes. Ruby had moved around to Sam's side and wordlessly slid herself onto the back seat next to Ella. Both Winchesters wondered briefly how she'd arrived at the rural address since she didn't seem to have a car of her own but neither posed the question. Dean opened the door behind his for Josh, who shakily lowered himself into the now-full backseat, giving Ella a sympathetic smile and Ruby an appraising one before leaning back and closing his eyes. Dean moved the blond man's hand to cover the shallow stab wound in his abdomen.

"Keep pressure on that, Bhodi," he ordered, waiting for a nod of acknowledgement before shutting the Impala's door. The Winchester brothers climbed into their usual front seats and Dean pulled sharply out onto the country road heading back towards Denver.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

As they sped along the Colorado highway back to Denver, Sam turned in his seat to look at Josh. "Dude, you doin' okay?"

"M'fine," was the slurred response. Completely unconvincing.

"He lost a lot of blood," Dean filled Sam in. "And he's gonna need stitches. Soon."

"Okay," Sam acknowledged. "Hospital then."

"No," Josh argued meekly, only partially opening his eyes. "Can't. Parole."

"Even ex-cons on parole are entitled to medical help," Sam said, not hiding the sarcasm.

"Not when they're supposed to be in California," Josh replied. "I have ten days, that's like seven or eight left, to report to the parole officer in California. No detours allowed."

"You're busted up a bit too much for our little medicine bag," Dean informed him. "You need a hospital. Don't worry, you're not shot. They won't ask too many questions. Just tell them you were in a car accident." He felt guilty even saying it because the very nature of Josh's injuries made it clear they weren't attained in a car accident or any other type of accident.

"Colorado State Law requires physicians to report all injuries believed to have been caused by criminal acts," Josh said in barely more than a whisper. "That includes knife wounds."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You friggin' Stanford geeks," he said so only his brother could hear. "How the Hell do you all retain this kind of random shit?"

"If they print me, I'm screwed," Josh continued. "I don't wanna go back to jail Dean. Please, I gotta find Lexie."

Dean sighed. "Alright, no hospital," he agreed, ignoring Sam's disapproving scowl.

Sam turned back around, this time his eyes resting on Ella, who was sitting in the middle weeping quietly. "How about you?" he asked. "Should we take you to the hospital?"

She shook her head. "I just wanna go home," she sobbed.

"Home's not such a good idea right now. Do you have someone you can stay with?" Sam asked gently. "Maybe lay low for a while?"

She nodded. "My sister lives in Watkins."

Sam nodded his approval. That was on their way and it gave them about fifteen minutes to get all the information they could from the girl.

"Listen," he said in a gentle voice, "can you tell us what you remember about the time the demon was inside you?"

Ella's eyes widened in renewed fear and obvious unwillingness to even think about it. She covered her hands with her face for a minute while Sam waited, smiling with false patience as she pulled herself together. "It would really help us stop them," he coaxed.

"I don't remember much," she finally stammered. "It was in me for months. Since August of last year."

Dean flinched. That was about the same time he had come off Alistair's rack and let everyone down by breaking the first seal. _Coincidence?_

"What was she up to? What did she do with the other witches?" Sam pressed.

"She convinced them all to move into the same building so they could do spells every night."

"What kind of spells?"

"Money stuff mostly. They would use the magic to find cash or win lotto tickets or get lucky on raffle draws. Small stuff."

Sam furrowed his brow in thought. That didn't make sense. There had to be more to it than that. "What about the vampires?" he asked. "And the werewolf? And the shritga? Three of the four girls have been killed. There must be a reason."

Ella looked thoughtful before her green eyes widened and she smiled at Sam. "Yes! She was talking to another demon last week and they were going on about some ritual. How the time had come for the sacrifices."

"What ritual were they talking about?" Dean interrupted.

"I don't know," Ella said apologetically. "But I do remember that during some of the spells with Julie and Kim and the others that the demon in me would add a specific passage from a book she had. I don't know what it was for, but it wasn't about money. It was part of something bigger."

"How did it go?" Sam asked hopefully.

Ella cringed. "Uh, I don't remember the whole thing. Something like pectus pectoris , animus, somes , and uhh…sentio?" She didn't sound very sure.

Sam frowned again. "Heart, soul, maybe corpse or body, and I think to feel," he translated.

Dean smiled at his brother's incredible geekiness. Dean hated Latin. He had forced himself to learn as little as he could get away with but Sam, on the other hand, had soaked it up like a sponge from the time he was a kid. The younger Winchester had hated the hunts but had always enjoyed the research. "What does that all mean?" Dean asked his little brother.

"I have no idea," Sam admitted with a shrug.

Ella didn't remember anything else of any significance. She had no idea who the Winchesters were or what any of the demons' plans were. She had no idea what vampires, werewolves, and shritgas had to do with anything. As they pulled up at her sister's house, she promised to lay low and not to mention any of the people in the car. She thanked them and walked stiffly up to the house. Dean waited to pull out until she was greeted at the door by her sister and had received no reaction when she said the word 'Cristo' as directed by the brothers.

Ruby shifted closer to the middle now that there was more room in the seat. She had been quiet on the trip from Ella's grandmother's house but spoke up as Dean pulled back out onto the road.

"So who's the pretty boy here?" she asked in a humorous tone, poking Josh and getting no reaction. "'Cause he's totally out."

Dean ignored her but Sam answered in a pleasant, conversational tone. "His name's Josh."

"Is he a hunter?" she asked. "You two know him?"

Sam answered again. "He's Alex's brother."

Ruby looked surprised. "No shit? Looks sure do run in that family."

Sam didn't react to the observation, much to Dean's relief. If there was still a thing going on between his brother and the demon bitch, he surely would have noticed at least a flicker of jealousy at that comment.

"So where is Goldilocks then?" Ruby continued, clearly making the mistake of thinking that saving Dean's life today would have earned her some civility from the elder Winchester.

"What do you care?" Dean snapped. "You hated her."

Ruby shrugged. "She grew on me."

Sam answered quickly, cutting off any snide remark Dean was thinking of saying and hoping to avert an argument between the two. "Alex is laying low."

"Howcome Dimples here isn't with her then? The way she talked, I thought they'd be joined at the hip the second he got out of jail." She looked back up at Sam. "Where's she been all this time, anyway?"

"She was in a psychiatric facility," Sam admitted, pulling out the med kit to clean the wound on his neck now that the pressing matter of questioning Ella was out of the way.

Ruby snorted. "Okay, when you said before that she '_went __her own way'_, I didn't realize you actually meant she _'went __away'_." A frown suddenly crossed her face. "She didn't seem crazy to me."

"She wasn't," Sam answered casually. "She didn't exactly check herself in. We made a mistake. We thought the demon that's after her wasn't real and we turned her in."

Dean sat in silence, growing more and more annoyed at how his brother was blabbing away to the demon in the back seat like she was a trusted friend, like she was his new BFF. Their familiarity with each other was unnerving. She may have helped them on more than one occasion, but she was still a _demon_. And the more Sam lied and sneaked around with her, the more Dean hated her. He barely tolerated her at the best of times, and these were certainly not the best of times.

He clenched his teeth at Ruby's reaction to Sam's revelation about Alex.

"What? You put her in the funny farm? Ouch - now that's cold! And I thought I was supposed to be the evil demon here. What's the matter Dean, didn't have enough in common with her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded hotly.

"Strapped down while a demon tortures you?" Ruby answered with a sneer. "Sound familiar? Now you and Goldilocks can swap war stories."

She stopped talking abruptly as the car swerved and screeched to a halt on the gravel shoulder, fishtailing wildly. A groan escaped Josh as he slid forward in the seat. Dean jumped out of the car and stormed around the front towards the passenger side.

"Oh shit, Ruby!" Sam scolded fearfully, thinking Dean just might try to kill the demon. He jumped out, placing his bulk in front of Dean and putting his hand up to his brother's chest to block his advance. "Whoa, Dean, wait," he pleaded, thankful when the pissed off hunter stopped and looked up at him.

"She's sorry. She didn't mean it," Sam stammered, unable to think of an excuse for Ruby's goading words other than she was a demon and it was just her nature.

"That bitch needs to die, Sam!" Dean spat, meaning it wholeheartedly. After watching Sam mojo-down a demon without flinching, he really did want her dead.

Ruby got out of the car and moved a few paces away from the brothers, folding her arms in a slightly challenging stance.

"Look, calm down, both of you," Sam pleaded. "Okay, we all know neither of you likes each other but please, can we just at least try to get along for now? At least until Lillith is dead, okay? We all have a common goal here, let's just keep our mouths shut," he gave Ruby a stern glare, "and our smart ass comments to ourselves until it's over."

Sam was now standing between the two with his arms outstretched, his hand still planted firmly on Dean's chest. Before Christmas, he had finally convinced Dean that Ruby was on their side. When she had helped with Anna, Dean had been almost civil to her. He had still tolerated her when she had shown up in Arkansas and had helped take down Thanin and destroy the angel-killing medallion. Over the past months, however, especially since the incident with the siren, Dean's pure hatred of her had returned. It was clearly going to be impossible for them to be anywhere near each other from now on. He would have to make sure Ruby understood their secret night-time rendezvous and phone calls were as far as their contact could go. She could no longer show up when Dean was around. At all.

"Are we good?" he asked both of them, feeling much like a recess monitor breaking up a playground scuffle.

"Fine," Ruby shrugged.

"She's not getting back in my car," Dean snarled as he spun on his heel and marched back to his side of the Impala. "And next time I see her, I'm gonna ram her knife into that friggin' heartless chest of hers." With that he got in and slammed the door shut.

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration and gave Ruby a reproachful look. "I'll call you," he mouthed over the roof, getting back in the Impala also. He had barely pulled his feet up before the car roared away, leaving the demon standing in a cloud of dust by the side of the road.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**May 2009 (Four weeks prior...)**_

Bobby was optimistic. Alex still spent all of her time in the library, was still quiet and reserved, and was till sleeping on the living room rug, but she was at least a little more talkative. In fact, during dinner on her fifth day there, they actually had a full conversation. It was about music and Bobby didn't have much to offer but apparently Alex had been impressed with some of his Johnny Cash and Alan Jackson classics. He was also told that Castiel had been misinformed and the real God was in fact walking the earth in the form of a guy named Chris Martin who sang in a band called Coldpin or Coldway or something. She went so far as to let the mechanic listen to a song by them on her iPod and laughed out loud when he commented that God sounded like a broad when he sang.

Encouraged by her laughter, he decided to let her in on what he had been working on. It was his hopeful solution to the current sleeping arrangements. After their take-out supper, he winked that he had a surprise and led her downstairs to the basement and over to the heavy iron door of his panic room.

"Premiere Steel Works, 1927," she read aloud, looking skeptical as he cranked the handle, swinging the door open.

"Actually, it's salt-coated iron," he informed her. Just this morning he had finished inserting a small window in the door with a flap that slid opened and closed. He stepped a few paces inside, throwing the light switch and turning to face her as she approached the door. It's one hundred percent ghost-proof, demon-proof, and spirit-proof. In fact, it's every darn kind of supernatural-proof I could think of."

Alex stood in the doorway speechless, staring around the room with a look of genuine astonishment on her face. There was an old, wooden desk on the far side of the round room with a newly-painted chair tucked neatly underneath it and her iPod speakers and laptop arranged on the desktop. A vinyl-clad armchair with button-studs sat off to one side with a pink throw cushion on it that matched the pink bedspread and pillows on the small cot on the other side. The cot looked like a fold-up bed you might find on an old submarine with thick chains anchoring it to the iron wall.

There was a huge Devil's Trap as well as an assortment of other symbols painted on the floor and there was another Devil's Trap forged into the steel grid at the top of the room, where a large ventilation fan was slowly turning. The wall to the right was lined with racks of weapons ranging from spears and swords to rifles and shotguns but these were somewhat concealed by the shear curtains hung up in front of them, an obvious recent addition.

It was perfect. Okay, the decor looked like it had been chosen by a teenage prom-queen with a major Chuck Norris fetish, but other than that it was perfect. _A demon-proof room… possibly even a Red-Eyes-proof room._ She looked over at Bobby and grinned. He was standing awkwardly a few feet into the room with his hands in his pockets and an embarrassed half-scowl on his face.

Her grin, however, disappeared the second she stepped across the threshold and she let out a small gasp of surprise. She reached out a nervous hand and grabbed Bobby's shoulder, looking around the room with slightly wild eyes.

"You okay, darlin'?" Bobby wasn't sure what was going on but suddenly remembered her mojo. Was she sensing a supernatural presence? "Is there something here?" he demanded, tensing and reaching for the knife in the sheath on his hip.

"No, no," she breathed, a gradual smile spreading across her face as she caught his eye. "Or at least, I don't think so." She moved slowly into the middle of the room. "Honestly, I wouldn't know. I don't feel anything."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't feel _anything_. It must be this room. I didn't realize it but I must always feel a little something - like background noise. Except in here, it's like total silence. My head - it's still. Quiet. No mojo." She let out a giddy chuckle. "Is this what normal people feel like?" She suddenly wrapped her arms around an unsuspecting Bobby and gave him a quick hug, ignoring his embarrassed, blushing cheeks as she pulled away.

"Thank-you Bobby. It's perfect."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_I love Bobby :-) _

_Next up: The boys ditch Josh but manage to run right into more trouble… oh, and Cas finally drops in._


	9. You Undead Sack of Shit!

**CHAPTER 9**** - Y****ou Undead Sack of Shit!**

Sam and Dean didn't speak for the next twenty minutes, the air tense between them. They were just reaching the outskirts of Denver when Sam glanced at the back seat where Josh lay sprawled with his eyes closed.

"He doesn't look so good, Dean," he said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Check his pulse," was all Dean said in reply.

Sam turned in his seat, getting onto his knees to reach over and place two fingers on Josh's neck. "Getting pretty faint," he informed his brother. "He needs a hospital."

Dean shook his head. "Call Bobby," he said curtly.

Sam sighed. That seemed to be Dean's solution to everything these days. Sam slept with the siren – call Bobby. They have a new brother – call Bobby. Dean has a toothache – call friggin' Bobby. He pulled out his cell and pressed number three on his speeddial.

"_Sam_," came Bobby's gruff reply.

"Hi Bobby. Listen, it's not for either of us and I'll fill you in on the details later but I'm wondering if you know of anywhere we can get some discreet medical attention."

"_You're still in Denver, I take it?"_

"Yeah."

_"Guy named Lucas Kinster. Lives at 32 Moose Jaw Road. Tell him I sent you_."

"He know about hunters?"

_"Yep."_

"He a real doctor? Our friend's lost a lot of blood."

"_He's a real doctor alright. Lost his license a few years back - not his fault though, long story involving a poltergeist and a crazy nanny. Anyway he became a veterinarian and now he helps hunters out of his clinic."_

Sam had to smile in defeat. Bobby's social network never ceased to amaze him. Maybe Dean had been right to turn to him after all. He relayed the address to Dean.

_"Listen, you boys figure any of that crap out yet? With the case, I mean?"_

Sam sighed. "No it just keeps getting more complicated," he admitted. He proceeded to fill Bobby in on all that they had found out and all that had happened.

_"That friend of yours_," Bobby asked, his voice suddenly more hushed, _"the one in need of medical attention... he related to anyone here?"_

"Uh, yeah actually," Sam confirmed. "It's who you're thinking it is. He followed us from Texas."

There was a brief silence. "_Damnit, I told her ditching him was a fool-ass thing to do. He gonna be all right?"_

"If this doctor of yours is good enough," Sam replied.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Lucas Kinster was a lean man in his late fifties with short, spiked grey hair whose small veterinary clinic was run out of his home in eastern Denver. Sam pulled a clean shirt on, popping the collar up to hide his unsightly neckwound while he went inside to see about getting medical attention for Josh. As soon as he heard Bobby's name, Lucas barked at his receptionist to cancel all of his appointments for the next couple of hours and got them to bring the Impala and the patient round back so they could get him inside with some measure of privacy.

Dean grabbed Josh's arm and pulled him upright towards the open door of the Impala. The unconscious man woke up briefly, glancing around with a glazed look, his eyes falling on the doctor in his white coat.

"Bro," he said weakly to Dean as the hunter hauled him up to his feet. "You promised no hospitals."

"Don't worry," Dean assured him with a grin. "It's not a public hospital. You'll fit right in here with the other patients."

Josh simply nodded. "Where'd the girls go?" he asked, looking at the empty back seat of the Impala. He didn't wait for a response before his head slumped forward and his feet gave out.

"Come on Romeo," Dean grunted as he nodded to Sam to help. "Let's get you inside." Sam tucked himself under Josh's other arm and the brothers half-carried half-dragged him into the clinic.

Dean couldn't help but snicker when the doctor ordered them to lay Josh on a large, bone-shaped steel table with a box of dog treats at one end. The Winchesters stood back while the doc examined his human patient, answering his questions about the various wounds as best as they could. Lucas ordered the receptionist to pay a visit to their friend at the blood bank and she left in a hurry. Josh was hooked up to an IV and the veterinarian proceeded to clean the wounds and stitch their friend up.

"He gonna be okay, doc?" Dean asked after about fifteen minutes, during which time he had figured out he could actually stick a pen through the hole in his hand. Sam hadn't been amused.

Lucas looked at his patient thoughtfully. "He should be, but he'll be out for quite a while; at least a day or so. Blood loss was quite severe but the stab wound here's the worst of it," he pointed to the bandage he had just finished applying on Josh's stitched up abdomen.

"Well, we're gonna get going then," Dean nodded. "Thanks for your help. When he wakes up, do me a favour and tell him we had to get back to work and that he should go home."

Lucas's eyes narrowed as he looked both brothers up and down. "Your friend here isn't the only one with injuries, I see," he remarked, pointing first to Sam's neck then at the bloodstain on Dean's thigh and the peculiar new use the hunter had found for the doctor's bic.

"We're good," Sam nodded politely, taking a step towards the door. "We can take care of these ourselves, thank-you."

"Oh no you don't!" Lucas said in an authoritative tone. "Nobody leaves my office unattended. You hunters are such a stubborn bunch." Shaking his head, he grabbed his suture kit from the table next to Josh and pointed Sam towards a chair. "Let's start with that nasty vampire bite, shall we?"

Dean snickered again at Sam as the younger hunter politely obeyed the command out of habit and a lifetime of following orders from John Winchester. Lucas looked sharply at the smiling older hunter. "What are you laughing at, boy? Gimme my pen back and drop those pants."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam drove on the way back to the motel, trying to ignore Dean's grumbling from the passenger seat. His brother was annoyed to have needed twelve stitches in the cut on his inner thigh, embarrassed at having a man poking around that high up, and livid at the fact that Lucas had given him a local anesthetic before placing the sutures.

"Dude, it'll wear off in less than an hour. Do you really think you'll be needing full use of your….your…of that area before then?" he chided.

"You never know, Sam. You never know. Besides, it's a matter of principal. A man should always be capable of taking advantage of any opportunity that may arise."

Sam burst out laughing.

"No pun intended," Dean added testily. "Seriously though, the doc could have warned me."

The younger Winchester sighed, trying to hide his grin. "It could be worse. You could be in Josh's shoes."

Dean gave his brother a nod to show his agreement with that statement. Josh was lucky to still be drawing breath. Dean was still shocked they had all made it away from Ella's grandmother's house alive. Even Ella. Ten months of being ridden by a demon and she was still breathing. It felt good to have saved someone again, even if it had been because of Sam's demon mojo. As for Josh, it felt good to _not_ have lost another friend. The memory of Pamela was still fresh in Dean's mind.

"Where have you been?"

Both Sam and Dean jumped in their seats when the low, calm voice from the back seat startled them. Dean spun around to face the newcomer.

"Cas! Please! How many times do I have to tell you?" he scolded.

"Sorry." A pause. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, well, where do I start?" Dean loaded on the sarcasm.

No reaction from Castiel. He simply looked at the brothers expectantly, waiting for a reply. Sam provided one in a slightly snippy tone, catching the angel's eye in the rear view mirror.

"We were working a hunt and we got a lead to go to a house in Bennett looking for a girl. Well, a witch actually, but she turned out to be a demon and it turned out to be a trap."

"I couldn't find you for a while."

"Yeah we're fine, thanks for asking," Dean grumbled.

Cas pursed his lips and managed to look partially apologetic. "I'm glad you're both fine," he deadpanned. "But I'm confused why I couldn't find you. You had me worried."

"Aw shucks Cas," Dean said, twisting around in his seat to grin at the angel. "I'm touched."

Sam continued the explanation, this time dropping the animosity. "The demons that nabbed us worked for Lillith. They had anti-angel symbols on the buildings. And they had vampires working for them."

"Yes," Cas said, not sounding surprised at all. "This is not an ordinary hunt."

"What do you know about it?" Dean demanded, suddenly annoyed that Cas had knowledge on the case and had apparently left him and Sam in the dark this long.

"Is this another seal?" Sam asked.

"Not just any seal," the angel replied. "We believe this is one of the six crucial seals."

"Crucial seals?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. There are hundreds of possible seals of which Lillith only has to break sixty-six."

"Yeah yeah," Dean urged. "Tell us something we don't know."

"Six of these seals are mandatory. Specific seals Lillith must open in order to get any farther along the chain."

"Like the first seal?" Dean asked more quietly.

"Yes. The first, the last, and four others in between."

"Wait a minute," Dean held up his hand. "If there are six specific seals that have to be opened, why don't you and your cloud-hopping dance crew just pile yourselves up in front of one of those? Shouldn't be so hard to hold the line if you've only got one thing to protect."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Firstly, this is the fifth of the six crucial seals. The only one after this one is the last one. Secondly, there are many ways Lillith can open each of them. We have no way of knowing where Lillith will strike. For example, the first seal could have been any number of people. It wasn't until you were in Hell that we figured out it was to be you, Dean."

Dean didn't respond. Sam threw his brother a furtive glance and, noticing the small flinch, quickly moved the conversation forward. "So what's this seal about?"

"It is number sixty," Cas replied.

"Not what I meant," Sam said, "but whoa, wait, _sixty_?"

Cas shrugged and gave them his patented 'grave and intense' look. "Lillith is far more resourceful than we anticipated."

Sam and Dean were both silent for a few seconds. "Okay, so what do you know about this seal?" Sam ventured finally, his head still spinning about how badly the good guys were apparently doing. _The angels were losing this war. It was going to be up to him to stop Lillith._

"It requires the sacrifice of four witches representing the embodiment of Netiran. The heart, the body, the soul, and the experiences."

"Hey, those sound like the four things the witches mentioned in the extra spell Ella told us about," Sam pointed out. "But what's Netiran?"

"_What_ is complicated. As for _who_, he is the keeper of a gate. If he is resurrected, he can open this gate. Once opened, the entire host of heaven can neither protect nor destroy this gate if the demons manage to keep it hidden from us."

"Let me guess," Dean sighed. "A gate to Hell."

Cas nodded. "Of a sort. It's a selective gate, but if Lucifer was to rise, he would use this gate to pull specific demons of his choice out of Hell. To stock his army, so to speak. An army that would eventually open the floodgates and unleash all of Hell here on Earth."

"Okay, first of all, that's not gonna matter 'cause Ol' Beelzebub ain't rising," Dean said confidently. "And second, we can just pick-up Kim, the last witch, and keep her safe. No sacrifice, no Netiran."

"The sacrifices are very specific," Cas continued with a nod of approval. "The witches must be killed by a dark creature that walks in human form. This does not include demons, so Lillith has no doubt enlisted the aid of various other creatures. Each witch's death represents one part of Netiran that shall be used to resurrect him in a ritual."

"The heart was the werewolf!" Sam exclaimed in realization. "It took Julie's heart."

"What were those four things again?" Dean asked Cas, seeing where Sam's train of thought was heading.

"The heart, the body, the soul, and the experiences," Cas and Sam answered simultaneously.

"Could the body mean blood?" the elder Winchester questioned.

Cas nodded.

"So the vamp killing Amber was the body. That makes the Shritga that killed Ginny the soul." Sam was thinking out loud.

"Shritgas actually take life force, not soul," Dean corrected. He knew all there was to know about shritgas... and souls.

"As with most prophetic instructions, it is a somewhat loose translation," Cas acknowledged, "And not necessarily to be taken too literally."

"Okay then, what 'loosely translates' into experiences?"

"Some kind of trauma monster?" Sam said skeptically.

"Doesn't have to be bad experiences," Dean pointed out.

"Well, what then? Out of body experiences?"

"What creature could capture that? Just maybe a reaper but they don't walk in human form. Not on this side of the veil, anyway."

"Feelings then? Is there something that feeds on feelings you experience?"

"I dunno, you're the walking supernatural almanac."

"Hey, I don't hear you coming up with any ideas."

"Memories." Castiel interrupted the bickering.

"Memories?" both Winchesters repeated in unison.

"Yes. Look for a creature that can take the witch's memories before it kills her. And Dean," Castiel put his hand on the seat back between them, his tone growing stern. "Be more careful. Lillith now knows you are the one who can stop this. She will be trying very hard to prevent that from happening."

The angel disappeared with that barely perceptible fluttering sound.

Dean snorted. "Be more careful," he mimicked, folding his arms across his chest in a sulky gesture.

"Okay, so what takes memories?" Sam asked, still puzzling over the fourth creature as he maneuvered the big car through the busy city streets.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

It took a few hours to get the emergency contact name and address from Kim Sebring's lease form out of Peter Parker the doorman. Not only was he off duty, but couldn't be found at his apartment or the bar where they had found him last time. The brothers had to stake his place out and it was almost nightfall before he showed up.

Although Peter was hard to find, he was still more than willing to help the Winchesters locate Kim. The doorman apparently had a criminal record and very little faith in the local police. Together with his obvious crush on Amber, this made the hunters' job rather easy. They waited outside the apartments while he went in and looked up Kim's file.

Her emergency contact was listed as her mother. Sam and Dean donned the suits, deciding to use their FBI cover again, and headed over to the senior Sebring residence. The girl's father answered the door and, although startled to see feds asking for his daughter, he quickly admitted that she was indeed visiting for a few days. Mr. Sebring let them in and called his daughter into the living room.

Kim looked scared but agreed to speak to them alone, clearly not wanting her father to find out about her dabble into witchcraft. He father obliged grudgingly and left the room. As soon as they had some privacy, Sam dropped the FBI pretense.

"Okay, Kim, I'm gonna be straight with you," he said candidly. "We're not FBI and you're not just visiting your parents."

"Who are you then?" she stammered, looking scared.

"Amber, Julie, and Ginny are all dead," Sam blurted out. "We just saved Ella's life but barely. We know about the coven and the spells and the money and we know that you're next."

"What's going on?" Kim whispered through near sobs. "It was harmless. Just money. Nobody's money really – we weren't stealing or anything, just tipping the odds. Then Julie was killed and then Amber. Now Ginny. Who's doing this?"

Dean glanced at Sam, seeing no softening in his expression despite the girl's desperation and fear. He jumped in quickly, interceding whatever cold comment he was sure was about to come out of his brother's mouth. Kim needed firm, but not heartless. They still had to convince her to leave with them, after all.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Kim," he said, "but this is way bigger than a group of girls tricking fate into winning them a new X-Box. Like it or not, you're involved and you're next in line. And you're putting your parents in danger by even being here."

"What do I do?" she whimpered.

"Pack a bag and come with us," Sam ordered. "Now."

"We're your only chance at staying alive," Dean added.

Kim was ready to go in less than five minutes. It took another ten for her to convince her parents she had witnessed a gang-related crime and that she was going into witness protection for her own safety and that they couldn't tell anyone they'd seen her. All in all, in and out the door in twenty minutes was pretty impressive, even for the charming Brothers Winchester.

They decided the motel was too high profile and opted instead to take her to an abandoned townhouse in a low-income area of town. She wrinkled up her nose as she walked through the front door, Sam carrying her bag behind her.

"So sorry but they seem to have lost our reservation at the Hilton," Dean grinned, unoffended.

"It'll be safer here," Sam added. "They'll never find you." He tossed her a hex bag. "Keep this on you at all times. ALL times. Understand?"

She took the bag a little apprehensively. "What is it? And exactly who's _they_? You still haven't told me who's after me."

Sam took the opportunity to explain about demons, Ella, her role in the coven, and that some creature was after Kim to sacrifice her as part of a ritual that Ella had started by adding certain incantations to the routine spells her coven had been performing.

Kim apparently hadn't heard anything past the explanation of Ella's role in the coven for when Sam finished, she stared blankly for a few seconds before asking a quiet question.

"What do you mean I've sold my soul?"

Dean winced. He wasn't comfortable with Sam's brisk and almost cold explanation of the girl's situation but he didn't have the stomach to take over.

"Does this mean I'm going to Hell when I die?" Kim looked terrified, staring back and forth between the silent Winchesters, waiting for an answer.

"Yes," Sam said blankly.

Kim gasped and covered her face in her hands, standing still for a couple of minutes before regaining her composure enough to speak. "What does that even mean?" she stammered, staring at Sam. "What happens to people in Hell?"

Neither Winchester answered.

"What's Hell like?" she rephrased, turning to Dean.

Dean sighed, debating whether or not he should explain the consequences of real witchcraft. "Probably not very nice," he downplayed, deciding there was no need to let the girl know what she was really in for. After all, his lifetime of credit card fraud was probably every bit as unethical as her supernatural source of income. She wasn't evil; she'd just made an incredibly bad choice.

They sat around in near silence well into the night, none of them able to sleep and both Winchesters hoping Cas would show up so they could pawn the witch off on him. It seemed reasonable that someone as valuable as Kim should be under angel protection, after all.

On occasion, Kim would press for details about Hell, to which Dean remained silent and Sam replied repeatedly that they didn't know. After a particularly specific series of questions fired at them just before dawn, Dean stood up, shoving his chair back with a loud scrape.

"Listen, I'm gonna go get us some Java," he announced curtly, grabbing his jacket and heading out the door before Sam could protest.

Outside, in the warm pre-dawn air, he took a few deep breaths. All the talk about Hell and the relentless questions had been weighing on him, constricting his chest in an increasingly painful grip of fear and shame. He walked down the desolate street for about five minutes, forcing the thoughts and memories out of his head.

Meanwhile, Sam pulled on his last reserves of patience to try and convince the girl she would be safe and that she should really get some rest. She finally agreed and stepped into the washroom to clean her teeth. Sam lay down on the couch, hoping Dean was alright and wondering where Ruby was. She had told him to amp up the dosage for the next little while until his body could recover itself from Ivan's ravenous feast. He had complied, stealing swigs from the flask whenever Dean wasn't looking. In fact, in less than twenty-four hours, he had nearly finished the flask. It seemed the more he drank, the more he craved. That voice of reason in the back of his head kept harping about this being a bad sign, a sign that he should stop now.

No, it wasn't a voice of reason. It was more like the voice of that weak, younger Sam that hadn't been able to save his brother from going to Hell last year. This time he wasn't going to listen to it. He was going to do what needed done. After all, there wasn't just Dean's soul at stake here this time. This was about six billion souls.

He pulled out his cell, his thumb hovering over the speedial button holding Ruby's number. Meeting up with her was going to be even harder after the fight she'd had with Dean the previous day. _Damn her bitchy mouth._ She had been doing so well maintaining civility with Dean the last couple of times their paths had crossed. Now getting her blood would be damn near impossible. Was she trying to drive a wedge between him and his brother or was that just something that was happening of its own accord?

He was tired of lying to Dean and sneaking around, especially after the incident with the siren. He had told Dean a hundred times that the words he had said had been those of the siren and did not reflect his true feelings. If only he could believe that himself. He knew full well the siren simply opened up the door that was holding the bottled feelings in. The feelings were true and the sentiments were correct, but he'd never had any intention of voicing them to his brother. After all Dean had been through, that was just cruel.

Sam's stomach still knotted slightly every time his mind wandered to that brutal fight they'd had while 'Nick' watched with an amused but heartless look on his face. He knew this unsettling feeling wasn't just for what he'd heard himself tell Dean or even for the fact that Dean had almost killed him with an axe to the face. It was that other thing that kept gnawing at him. Dean's want...

He pressed down on the cell phone key but hung up before the call connected, distracted by a sound from the bathroom. He heard a voice. Kim's voice. _Damnit! Who the fuck was she talking to?_

He jumped up and stormed over to the door, turning the knob and pushing hard, half expecting it to be locked. It wasn't and swung open quickly. Sam saw Kim spin to face him from where she was standing in front of the sink, cell phone in her hand. He noticed her thumb press end quickly as she stuck it in her pocket.

"Who are you calling?" he demanded angrily.

"Nobody," she replied meekly.

"You were just on your phone!" Sam accused hotly. "Did we not make ourselves clear earlier about how much danger you're in? We said no contacting anybody."

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "It was just my voicemail. I was just checking my voicemail."

Sam didn't look convinced. "You were talking."

"I was talking to myself, I swear. Don't you ever talk back to a voicemail message? Everybody does that."

Sam was about to demand she hand over her phone but she started to apologize and he could see tears welling up in her eyes. He sighed, feeling suddenly sorry for her. He relented and made his way back to the living room, his thoughts once again drifting back to Ruby and the nearly drained flask.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

By the time he reached the convenience store, Dean was more or less relaxed. He found himself almost wishing Cas would show up. Dean didn't particularly like 'alone time', which was probably the reason he had never minded the endless hours cooped up in the Impala or seedy motel rooms with his brother or his father. But his father was gone, these days he often felt like he didn't even know Sam, and he hadn't seen Bobby in over a month since he was currently avoiding the mechanic's place – and the blonde residing there - like the plague. Cas was next in line.

Dean had found that the angel could be surprisingly pleasant company. Since Alistair had escaped and Cas had shown up as a comforting and non-judging presence in Dean's hospital room where the overwhelmed hunter had shed tears and voiced his doubts about his role in this whole apocalypse thing, the vague tenseness and lingering distrust between them had simply disappeared. They could sit together in silence without it being awkward.

But Castiel didn't show up. The convenience store was closed and Dean inwardly cursed himself for not bringing his car so he could drive to the twenty-four hour Quickie-Mart a couple of miles away. He decided he didn't want to go back to their hide-out just yet. He couldn't stomach any more of Kim's whining and panicking about her impending trip downstairs. It was a nice, crisp morning and the hunter decided to hoof it to the Quickie-Mart, setting off at an ambling pace. At least he could feed his own junk food craving and by the time he got back to this store, it would be open and he could pick up a hot coffee for Sam.

Dean never needed a map or directions. His hunter's instincts, as well as years of career training by John Winchester, compelled him to subconsciously canvas the area around any lodging establishment prior to settling in. He had driven every street in a three mile radius immediately after scoping out the townhouse they were staying at. The current troubled economy had in fact made finding free lodgings easier for the Winchesters as more and more houses had been seized or foreclosed upon. Many of them still had furniture and even power. There was always a silver lining, he thought, surprising himself with the optimistic notion and thinking briefly that it sounded like something Lex would have said. Well, the old Lex, anyway - before she'd crossed paths with the Winchesters.

His mind traveled to the blonde and her brother. He still thought she was making the wrong choice by ditching him. He remembered the times Sam had taken off and not told him where he was. He too had had a stubborn, nasty sonofabitch on his tail. Red-Eyes, Yellow-Eyes, same difference. Nope, what she was doing was just wrong. Josh wasn't going to settle down to an apple pie life not knowing where his sister was, that much was obvious. Dean badly wanted to give him Bobby's address, for her sake as much as Surfer-Boy's. Even if she managed to stay under Red-Eyes' radar, she still had the supernatural sensing mojo. She was still a walking trouble magnet. Even getting a place of her own less than half an hour from Singer's Auto Salvage, as she had apparently decided to do, she would still be alone. She was tough and capable, but she would still be vulnerable. Dean was certainly in no position to look out for her – though he would admit to himself he almost wished he was.

That train of thought, however, was short-lived as a Dodge Neon suddenly pulled up at the curb next to him and three men got out. They marched directly toward him with threatening stares.

Dean stopped short, reaching around to lightly finger the grip of Ruby's knife tucked away at the small of his back. This was a pretty shady neighborhood but these guys didn't seem like local thugs. Besides the lame wheels, he was fairly certain he had heard Kylie Minogue playing on the car's stereo before the engine had been shut off. Not a rough gang's usual soundtrack of choice.

"Nice car," he sneered, wishing he had his gun also. Despite rarely going anywhere without one these days, he had forgotten it in his haste to get away from Kim.

"Why don't you make this easy on all of us, Winchester, and just get in it," the closest man replied, his eyes flickering black for the briefest of moments. "You're coming with us."

Dean groaned. "Not again," he complained sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Look, I'm flattered but frankly, your parties blow so I think I'm gonna pass."

It appeared none of these demons had a sense of humour. The first one lunged for him, a foolish move because the hunter had no trouble sidestepping and ramming the knife into his neck. Without waiting for the lights flashing under the demon's skin to subside, Dean charged the second man, Ruby's knife slashing viciously towards his exposed throat. The demon leaned back, just out of reach, but wasn't able to miss the immediate second strike of the knife, which landed in his chest while he was still struggling to upright himself.

Dean yanked the knife out quickly, kicking the body away from him. He spun to face the third attacker, inwardly congratulating himself on how awesome he was getting at taking out Lillith's demon-strong minions. The third demon apparently agreed with the hunter's self-assessment for he froze, abruptly halting his advance. He and Dean both stood motionless for a few seconds clearly weighing their chances of coming out on top. The demon must have thought the odds were in the hunter's favour because he turned suddenly and ran around the car, jumping into the driver's seat and speeding away.

Dean stared in astonishment at the small sedan disappearing down the street, leaving him standing alone with the two bodies of the demons he'd just killed. Seriously? Had a demon just run away from him? Ha! _And Sam said he was weak!_ A small smirk graced his face for a brief instant before his thoughts raced back to Sam. His hand flew to his pocket and whipped out his phone, speed-dialing his brother as he started running full speed back towards the townhouse.

He was assured repeatedly by his brother that there were no signs of demons at the townhouse and that Sam was on guard before he hung up. He barged in the door less than three minutes later, getting a much-needed visual confirmation that the younger Winchester was indeed fine.

"I don't understand," Sam puzzled, having rechecked all the salt lines and their hex bags. "How did they find you?"

Dean shrugged, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath in the living room. "I have no idea," he panted. "But they're persistent buggers, not to mention getting to be a major pain in my ass."

Sam's eyes suddenly narrowed and he spun towards Kim. "Who did you call?" he demanded fiercely.

The witch's eyes widened in alarm and she took a step away from the imposing hunter. "Nobody. I told you, I was just checking my voicemail."

Sam took three strides forward, grabbing her shoulder with one hand while reaching into her pocket and pulling out her cell phone. He flipped it open and scrolled through the call history. His teeth gritted in fury when he saw an outgoing call made about ten minutes ago.

"Damnit!" he seethed. "We're trying to protect you, can't you understand that? Whose number is this? Who'd you call?"

Dean snatched the phone from his brother and hit redial. A male voice answered and he sounded angry.

"_Hey, thanks for the heads up on the fucking knife you undead sack of shit!_"

Kylie Minogue was playing in the background.

Dean snapped the phone shut. "She tipped them off, Sam," he snapped, reaching again for Ruby's knife. "And I don't think she's human!"

Sam had drawn his 9mm the second Dean had hung up, warned before the spoken words by the mere look on his brother's face and reacting instantly.

"What are you?" he demanded.

For an instant, Kim looked like she was going to keep up the pretense of innocence. Then her look of fear melted into a disrespectful smirk. "You boys better get out of here 'cause I have no doubts Lillith's got more of her demons on the way."

"Oh, we're going," Dean shot back, "right after we finish you."

Kim glanced at Ruby's knife and over to the 9mm Sam had pointed at her. "Not with those you're not," she said casually before taking a step towards the door. Dean moved to intercept her, jabbing the knife at her side as he did so. In a flash, she knocked his hand out of the way with her left and threw him across the room with a hard swing from her right.

As his big brother hit the wall with a loud thud, Sam fired. With werewolves in the mix, his gun was loaded with silver bullets so if his hunch was right, these shots should take the bitch down.

Four bullets hit their mark squarely in the chest but Kim didn't even slow. She streaked over towards Sam and wrapped her small hand around his neck with an iron grip, twisting the gun out of his hold with her other hand. The force of her strangle hold pulled the large hunter down onto his knees in front of her, his hands involuntarily reaching up to try and pry his neck free.

Dean was struggling to his feet behind Kim, noisily trying to suck some air back into his lungs after it had been so brutally forced out. Sam managed to pry her fingers away enough to release some pressure on his windpipe, enough to swallow down some air of his own. As soon as he'd managed a decent gulp, he focused his attention back on taking down Kim and swung his leg out, knocking her off her balance. She released him with a shove and stepped back quickly, turning slightly to face both Winchesters in a defensive pose.

"She's not a shape shifter," Sam pointed out, his voice still rough from the stranglehold. "Silver bullets didn't work."

Kim reached suddenly for the weapons bag sitting on the coffee table, tossing it behind her through the door and into the bathroom. The hunters would have to go through her to get to the bag, which left them without the shotgun that definitely would have been their weapon of choice at this point.

Her demeanor relaxed slightly and she straightened up before speaking. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "You thought I was a shape shifter? Vile, slimy creatures with no dignity. I've been on this planet for almost six hundred years." Her tone was gaining in confidence as she spoke. "It's gonna take more than a couple of amateurs and a demon-killing pigstick to take me down." The last comment was directed at Dean, who had made it to his feet and was currently picking up Ruby's knife from where it had landed on the floor by the couch, his eyes never leaving Kim's face.

She didn't wait for a reply before moving forward with incredible speed and taking a swing at the elder Winchester. He ducked and swung the knife at her, this time slicing a deep cut in her shoulder as she followed through on her punch. She barely flinched, however, and slammed her other fist into Dean's chest with enough force to knock the hunter onto the end table, crashing it to pieces as he fell through it onto the ground.

She leapt on top of him with a snarl, hauling back and getting a few really painful, rib-cracking punches on him before backing off to turn and check on Sam.

Too late.

Sam had moved quickly, taking instant advantage of the broken table. He grabbed a splintered leg as a club and swung it hard at the girl's head when she turned to face him. Getting a glimpse of Dean's bloody, pain-wracked face below her, he swung again and again, not relenting for a second until she was off his brother and writhing on the floor instead, her hands trying to block the hunter's savage blows. He kept going until he heard the skull crack and her screaming stopped. Just to be on the safe side, he kept going after that, making damn sure her head was swiss cheese before standing up, panting with the effort.

"Dean you okay?" he asked quickly.

Dean rolled over, getting stiffly up on his knees and wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his sleeve. "Yeah," he answered, looking at Kim's still body with a hint of satisfaction. "If there's one thing I hate more than witches," he commented, his hand pressed against his battered ribcage, "it's friggin' ghouls."

Sam nodded, tossing down the bloodied table leg. "Yeah," he agreed, "Like we haven't had enough of them this month."

Dean couldn't have agreed more but kept silent. He and Sam hadn't really talked about Adam in the two weeks since they'd given the brother they never knew a hunter's funeral just outside of Windom. He had mixed feelings about the whole incident, all of which were raw and unpleasant. He'd found another brother, another member for his way-too small family. Then he'd lost him before he had even met him. Then there was the fact that his father had treated this kid like a son, a _real_ son, a privilege Dean had rarely been given. He wasn't sure, but he thought that slap in the face might just be the main reason his heart gave a painful twist every time the subject of Adam entered his mind. He didn't even want to think about Sam's reaction to the whole affair. The truth Sam had willingly, no _eagerly_, exposed Adam to. The casual manner in which Sam had ripped any chance of normalcy away from their newly found brother. Not wanting to explore that emotional can of worms, Dean simply pushed it aside and ignored it.

Right now, however, Sam's face took on a slightly wistful look at the mention of their last encounter with ghouls. He turned away from Dean, not wanting them to get into another argument over their differing opinions on how to deal with Adam. Sam felt a sense of loss every time he thought of Adam, despite never having him as a little brother in the first place. He had enjoyed being the big brother, however briefly, teaching Adam the life and giving him the skills he would need to survive this world as a Winchester. He had finally understood Dean's devotion to looking out for him their whole lives, protecting him and training him. Or he thought he had. Dean didn't seem to like any part of finding out about Adam. Sam figured maybe Dean was jealous of the normalcy Adam had shared with their father. Or maybe he was jealous of the attention Sam had been giving their new sibling. Or maybe he was just scared he wouldn't be able to protect either of his little brothers. Dean was scared of a lot these days.

"Let's get out of here." Dean snapped Sam out of his train of thought. "Lillith's still gung ho about getting' her grubby hands on us so we should shag ass."

Sam agreed, grabbing their belongings quickly. Within a minute, they were out the door and pulling away in the Impala, moving quickly through the Denver streets in the quiet of the early dawn.

Sam glanced over at his brother when they stopped at a light. Dean had a frown on his face as he fidgeted, his usual impatience with city traffic showing through. When he spoke, however, it had nothing to do with traffic.

"Ghouls are strong," he said, "but that bitch was _really_ strong."

"You're right," Sam realized, absently rubbing his throat. "Way stronger than…than the last ones. Maybe they get stronger as they get older – she said she was six hundred. That's really old for a ghoul."

Dean slammed his fist into the steering wheel. "Godamnit!" he fumed. "We failed, Sam! We're losing. The angels are _losing_."

"I know," Sam agreed. "We need to step it up." He clenched his fists in sudden annoyance and continued speaking through gritted teeth. "And as for the angels, they need to stop dicking around and keeping us in the dark."

Dean couldn't argue with that one. Since Kim had been a ghoul, that meant the real Kim was dead, eaten so the ghoul could absorb her memories and take her shape. That meant all four witches were dead, which probably meant the seal was broken. The last 'crucial seal'. That left only six more to go. Six more seals and the frickin' devil himself was gonna be walking the planet killing people by the millions.

He sighed. "So what now?" he asked, sounding tired.

Sam was still tense with anger and frustration and his brother's defeated tone wasn't helping. "Now we find the vamp or the wolf that got away and we question them."

"Question them?" Dean didn't like any part of that suggestion.

"Yes. We find out where Lillith is."

"Yeah, 'cause your last run in with her went so well!" Dean was tired of the angry broken record Sam was becoming.

"She's scared, Dean! This is a good thing. It means she knows we can beat her." Sam wasn't hiding his frustration.

"You mean she knows _you_ can beat her," Dean fired back. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but last time you tried, you _couldn't_ beat her. When I came in that room with Chuck, she was on the one top of you with Ruby's knife!"

Sam clenched his teeth in rising irritation but managed to bite his tongue. "Whatever, Dean," he relented, looking away out his window. "The fact remains that there's a punk ass vampire and a werewolf running loose around Denver. And whether the seal is open or not, we could at least use them to find the demon in charge and stop it from doing the ritual that's going to open Netiran's gate."

Again Dean had to agree with Sam's point. "Okay," he conceded. "We can try find Ivan or that big vamp that gave us the slip at Ella's grandmother's house. Maybe they'll know something about where or when the ritual's going down."

Sam's shoulders loosened slightly as the tension dissipated and a plan was formulated. He didn't want to fight with his brother. A thought crossed his mind and he glanced over at the driver's side. "We'll try to avoid torturing them, Dean," he said in a softer tone.

Dean's jaw muscle gave a barely perceptible twitch, his only reaction to his brother's comment. Sam noticed but kept quiet.

"You know, I was thinking," Dean said a few blocks later.

"Uh-oh," Sam chuckled in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.

Dean rewarded him with a feigned sideways scowl and a hint of a smirk. "I was thinking we should change motels before the doggy-doc lets Josh go."

Sam looked surprised. "Why? You wanna ditch him? I thought you guys were buddies."

Dean ignored the hint of sarcasm in the word 'buddies' and gave his brother an incredulous look. "That _is_ why. Lex asked us to give him a letter and we almost got him killed."

Sam shrugged. "He asked to come with us yesterday," he pointed out. "No, he _insisted_ on coming. He knew the risks."

"So did Pamela; look where that got her."

"You can't blame yourself for everyone that dies around us, Dean."

"That's just it. Everyone _does_ die around us."

Sam sighed. "Whatever."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**May 2009 (three weeks prior)...**_

Alex came in from her morning run around Bobby's back twenty. The junkyard only occupied a small corner of the mechanic's property, the rest of which had fields and trees and even a secluded lake in the southernmost corner. She had added a couple of miles to what she used to run, mostly as a preventative measure to counteract the delicious but hugely greasy breakfasts Bobby was always serving up. She had been here three weeks now and found herself falling into a routine. Bobby made breakfast, she would see to lunch, and supper was almost always take-out from the diner in town, delivered by the hyper and rather nerdy delivery boy she had nicknamed McLovin.

As she approached the house she noticed the usual smell of fried bacon wasn't wafting out the side kitchen window. She stepped inside to see Bobby leaning over the table with his hands in fists, the phone clutched in one of them, his shoulders tense. He hadn't noticed her come in and she stopped short when he straightened up suddenly and threw the phone at the far wall.

"Goddamn you John Winchester!" he yelled, not seeming to care that his cordless had just smashed into a hundred pieces.

"What's happened?" she asked, recognizing Sam and Dean's father name and silently hoping they were okay. She and Bobby had so far avoided any real conversations about the Winchesters, limiting that topic to a few gruff comments about them when they were kids that Bobby had let slip before catching himself and changing the subject.

Her voice startled the older hunter who hadn't realized he had an audience. He visibly worked to curb his temper at whatever in the phone conversation had angered him as he attempted a smile and answered her.

"Looks like we might be getting another houseguest," he announced. "Seems there's a third Winchester in the brood."

"Huh?"

"That was Dean," Bobby explained. "Apparently some nineteen years ago their father met a woman in Minnesota. This woman has a son. John's son. Dean wants to send him here for safekeeping." The mechanic ran his hand over his mouth, tugging at his beard. "The thing that gets me," he admitted, "is that that bastard John found out about this new kid seven years ago." A hint of anger was starting to creep back into Bobby's voice. "He used to go visit him! Never said a word to any of us. To his own sons!"

Bobby was working himself back up to furious. "Goddamn him! I loved him like a brother but if he wasn't dead already I'd strangle him myself. Keeping this kid a secret, taking off for his own little mini-vacations to normal-land after he made damn sure his own sons would never have that. Selfish bastard." Bobby wasn't speaking to Alex anymore. This particular rant was aimed squarely at his old friend John Winchester. "As if the damn kid didn't have enough daddy issues."

It was obvious to anyone who knew Bobby that he was now referring to Dean. He had a very particular look that seemed to be reserved especially for the elder of his surrogate sons. A look that could be mistaken for a frown should one not notice the softness in his eyes and the hint of a smile at the left edge of his mouth. Bobby was about to continue his rant but suddenly realized Dean would probably kill him for airing his issues in company, so he caught himself, giving Alex an uncomfortable smile and trying to think how to best change the subject.

"Well I for one am looking forward to it," Alex grinned at him, saving him the trouble. "I man, a mini Winchester? A Weechester! This could be fun."

Bobby chuckled, releasing his anger. "Like two Winchester brothers aren't trouble enough," he joked. Alex was right. Any family of Sam and Dean's was, after all, family of his. Besides, a normal brother who just may not be completely emotionally destroyed might be the very thing Sam and Dean needed right now. Bobby had noticed the rift between them that seemed to be getting bigger instead of melting away as he had hoped. The common goal of a new little brother to protect might just bring them back together.

As for Alex, Bobby was getting used to having her around. He wasn't even minding the salads and the friggin' cucumber sandwiches she kept making him for lunch. She wasn't talking about her time in Oceanview or anything remotely considered a feeling, but she was more relaxed and friendly now, even if she still spent most of her time reading and carting piles of his books to and from the panic room downstairs. That suited Bobby just fine. He was used to young'uns that kept their shit bottled up. Hopefully this new Winchester kid would do him the same courtesy.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_BTW, 'you undead sack of shit' is a quote from Bubba Ho-tep, a Bruce Campbell horror B-movie that I'm sure Dean has watched a hundred times over for its campy cheesiness. _

_Next chap: Josh and Ella rejoin the story, a fave cannon character of mine makes an appearance, and a new hunter enters the picture – but is he friend or foe? _


	10. I Am Not in Love with Dean Winchester

_Ok, this is a long chap but it may be a couple of days before I can post again. Hope you enjoy :)_

_FYI, in case you didn't notice, the chapter titles are random excerpts from the chapter. Taken out of context, they can be misleading, lol. This chapter's title is a quote from Cas – got you wondering?_

_**CHAPTER 10**__** – I Am Not in Love with Dean Winchester**_

_**June 2009**_

Dean let the shower run hotter than usual, enjoying the soothing effect the steaming water was having on the new array of bruises from his round with Kim. He leaned his hand against the tile shower wall for a long while, hanging his head as the water ran down his neck and over his aching back. He was both disheartened and tired. Hoping to get a couple of hours sleep before heading out to find the vampires, he reluctantly shut the water off, stepping out and wrapping a towel around his lower half before coming back out into the motel room for some clean clothes.

No sooner had he stepped through the bathroom door than Castiel appeared, standing in his trench coat and tie by the motel door. Sam had been relaxing on his bed but quickly sat up.

"Cas," Sam announced.

Cas nodded in way of a greeting, looking first at Sam then over to Dean. "Where is the witch?"

Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet. "Dead. A ghoul already had her."

"Yeah, sorry man," Dean said as he rooted through his duffel for clean clothes. "We screwed up. All four witches are dead. We lost the seal."

"Did you kill the ghoul?" Cas asked.

"Yes," Sam answered.

"Then all may not be lost," Cas informed them, getting a raised brow from both Winchesters.

"Are you saying the seal doesn't break until the ritual is completed?" Sam asked, sounding hopeful. "You think we have time to stop it?"

The angel nodded. "The ritual involves the reinstatement of four specific elements of Netiran that are manifested in the witches then transferred to the appropriate dark beings. Without these beings to supply the elements, the ritual can't be completed."

"Whoa, so you're telling me if we waste any one of the four monsters, then the ritual can't happen and we save the seal?" Dean actually grinned. "Then we're homefree, Cas! We wasted the Shritga and the ghoul. Lillith's two down. She'll have to start from scratch now, recruit four more witches."

Cas didn't look as pleased as the brothers thought he should have. "Lillith has been one step ahead of us for fifty-nine seals. She would have an alternate plan."

"So you're telling us not to count our chickens?" Dean clarified.

"No," said Cas, giving the hunter a furrowed brow of confusion at the chicken remark. "I'm telling you I don't think we should assume we have won."

Dean ignored the correction. "But there were only four witches," the hunter argued. "We've dusted Netiran's memories and his life-force, which were the ghoul and the shritga. They killed all four witches to take this stuff so they can't just go back and take it again."

"My sources tell me there were five witches," Cas said.

Sam winced. "Right. Ella."

"Ella?" Dean didn't sound convinced. "She was a demon."

"She took part in all the coven's spells," Sam pointed out. "There was a human inside there. She was as much a witch as the rest of them, prepared for the ritual by the spells. Lillith could try again with her to replace the memories or the life-force."

"Okay," Dean conceded. "But even if she did, that still leaves Netiran's brew one ingredient short." He addressed Cas as he sniffed the pits of a grey t-shirt, shrugged, and pulled it over his head. "Or can she take two elements from one witch?"

"I don't know," Cas said slowly. "I'm not sure how it works. It's complicated."

Dean didn't hide his frustration. "Enough with the complicated, Cas! You guys locked these seals, didn't you? How is it you know diddly squat about how they're opened? You gotta stop holding back on us. I almost got killed by demons twice in two days – that's a bad average, even for me!"

Castiel had the decency to look apologetic for a brief second. "I am sorry. I have already told you they don't tell me much," he said. "I did not personally create the seals. I don't know if they can use the last witch for both the missing elements. What I do know is that we cannot take that chance."

"Okay," Sam shrugged. "Dean, hurry up and get dressed. We'll go get Ella."

Dean let Sam's bossy tone slide as he was in complete agreement with the plan of action. He grabbed his jeans and headed for the bathroom door. "We'll go get her but this time, _you_ look after her!" he called over his shoulder at the angel.

"Uh, he's gone," Sam informed him, just as there was a loud knock on the door.

Sam got up to look through the peephole in the door, his hand automatically reaching for the 9mm still in his waistband. Dean was torn between taking a defensive position and taking the time to pull his pants on, not wanting to be caught undressed if it was an enemy at the door. He decided on the pants, waving an arm at Sam to stall before opening the door as he yanked his jeans up under the towel.

Sam's shoulders relaxed and he threw an eye roll Dean's way before pulling the door open to reveal Josh standing there. The blond man was wearing a striped shirt that was a size or two too small for him and his face still looked a little pale. He grinned as he stepped over the threshold into the room.

"Hey guys."

Sam closed the door behind him, throwing Dean a look that said '_so much for the ditching him plan_'. "Doc let you go already?" he asked in a surprised tone.

Josh gave them a sheepish shrug. "What can I say? I heal fast."

Both brothers could tell that wasn't the whole truth of the matter. Dean pressed the issue, a little annoyed they hadn't had the chance to split. "Lucas said you'd be down for a couple of days. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours," he pointed out.

Josh gave him a slight frown. "Well, I didn't want you two getting any ideas about ditching me. And thanks for thinking to drop my car off," he added, heaping on the sarcasm since the Bronco was still parked out front where he had left it the day before. "I just loved hitchhiking across Denver in a friggin' special edition Zac Efron shirt."

"Dude, you could have just called," Dean defended. If truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to him to take Josh his car to him. He and Sam usually worked alone. They didn't normally have to worry about anyone else. Besides, Dean Winchester didn't do car pool.

Josh shrugged, taking a seat on Dean's bed. "I would have," he admitted, "but I sorta forgot my phone at the clinic." He changed the subject at that point so he wouldn't have to lie. "Which, by the way, was a _veterinary_ clinic! Thanks for that."

Dean laughed. "Hey, you're the one who refused a hospital."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll have to take your word one that one." Josh only had a vague recollection of the drive to Ella's sister's house. He hadn't rented his own room the first night he had shown up, being too worried about the Winchesters giving him the slip, and had instead camped out on the floor of their room in a sleeping bag from his SUV. His duffel bag was still on the floor and he hauled it up next to him, rooting through it for a decent sized shirt. "So what's going on with the hunt?"

"You just missed your future brother-in-law," Dean informed him.

"Castiel? The angel?" Josh's head snapped up. "What, is he shy? I wouldn't mind meeting an angel."

"News flash," said Sam, surprised that Josh knew about angels and guessing Alex must have told him in the letter. "Angels are dicks."

"Not what I hear," Josh countered. "I hear they're sparkling bundles of glowy goodness."

Both Sam and Dean snorted loudly to that image, which was clearly Alex's mistaken point of view. "Cas is alright," Dean conceded, "but as for the rest of them, you can't trust them as far as you can throw them."

"So what did Cas have to say?" Josh asked. "Does his visit have anything to do with this hunt?"

"Yeah," Dean admitted, figuring Josh was already in this neck deep so they may as well let him finish it. "Turns out the witches in our local coven are all being killed as part of a plan to perform a ritual that may open a gate to Hell. As a matter of fact, we gotta go get Ella back right now. Come on, I'll explain on the way."

Josh exhaled wearily and rose to his feet. He wasn't up for driving so he slid into the back of the Impala after rooting briefly through the trunk of his own vehicle. On the half hour ride out to Ella's sister's house, Dean explained the gist of the hunt, omitting the minor fact that the completion of the ritual also signified the breaking of the sixtieth seal on Lucifer's prison. Josh listened intently, interjecting with a few technical questions about vampires and shritgas. He had come across a few ghouls before and knew the headshot rule. He had also encountered his first werewolf a year ago so knew the basics about killing them too. He didn't bring up what he had seen Sam do with his powers to the demon possessing Ella and neither Winchester offered any explanation.

When they pulled up on the street outside Ella's sister's house, they noticed a second car in the driveway that hadn't been there when they had dropped her off. Dean held back, stopping behind a scraggly hedge that ran along the roadside. A man and an elderly lady were standing talking on the front porch.

"What do you think?" Dean asked his brother, eyeing them nervously.

"I don't know," Sam answered thoughtfully. "You thinking they could be demon?"

"Two traps in two days," Dean reminded his brother. "Damn right they could be demon. I'm not about to walk into a third."

"They could just be relatives," Sam pointed out. "Or Jehovas."

"Well, if they are demons, they'll recognize you two," Josh spoke up. "So I'll go in. They won't risk blowing a trap for a nobody."

He slid over to the door to get out of the car.

"Wait," Dean barked. "What are you packing?"

Josh rolled his eyes. "I get it," he snapped, sounding more than a little annoyed. "I'm still the useless rookie." He pulled out a .45 from his waistband and ejected the clip. "My all-purpose gun," he commentated, holding it up as if doing a product demo on the shopping channel. "One silver round, one consecrated iron round, then one regular round. Full clip. Seven of each, all in rotating order. If the first bullet doesn't work, the second or third will." He snapped the magazine back in place and pulled out a small flask from his pocket. "And holy water. I have done this before, you know." He looked at the brothers expectantly. "Are you satisfied? Do I pass, Professors?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean conceded. "Just don't go inside. Find out who they are and ask for Ella to come to the door. She'll recognize you and I'm sure she'll agree to come with you. And keep your eyes open."

Josh just gave him the finger and stepped out of the car. As he strolled up the driveway, Dean threw Sam a sheepish look. "Dude," he grinned, "that's a smart play, mixing your ammo in case you don't know what you're gonna be dealing with. Howcome we never thought of that?"

Sam shrugged, grinning also, mostly at the fact that neither of them would be admitting to Surfer Boy that he had come up with a good idea.

They watched him walk up the three porch steps and shake hands with the middle-aged man in what seemed like a friendly greeting. The two spoke for a moment before the man helped the elderly lady to the extra car and drove away as Josh knocked on the front door.

"Let's go, Dean," Sam suggested, getting out of the car. "Doesn't look like there's anything hinky going on here. We're getting paranoid."

The door had still not been answered by the time they reached it, despite Josh's second round of loud thumps. Josh turned to face them. "Dude says he was Ella's uncle and the old lady was her great aunt. He said she was inside but she's not answering."

"Let's go in," Sam said tensely, striding up to the door and turning the knob. It was locked. He drew his gun and slammed his foot into the center of the door. It flew open with a crack and a bang, slamming hard against the side wall.

"Ella!" Sam yelled, ducking in through the doorway with his 9mm held out in front of him. Dean followed closely behind and Josh brought up the rear.

They split up and searched the house, Sam taking the main floor while Dean went upstairs. Josh stepped warily down the steps leading to the basement.

"Found 'em!" Dean called a moment later from upstairs. He was joined within seconds by Sam.

"Aw crap," Sam cursed as he approached Dean, who was squatting next to the body of Ella with his fingers on her neck feeling for a pulse. The pretty brunette was lying on her back, her eyes and mouth wide open. Her lips were cracked, her cheeks hollowed, and her face ghostly white.

Just as Josh came up the stairs behind him, Sam stepped past his brother to the body of a second girl. Despite the bloodied face, he recognized her as Ella's sister, who had answered the door when they had dropped Ella off yesterday. There was no need to check her pulse, it was evident she was dead.

"Shritga?" Josh asked, looking at Ella as Dean stood up shaking his head to indicate she was gone.

"That would be my guess."

"Did a ghoul eat that one?" he asked, this time addressing Sam who was standing nearest the sister.

Sam shook his head. "No. She's not eaten. Looks like a few stab wounds. Besides, she wasn't one of the witches. I'd say wrong place, wrong time. Collateral damage."

"The old lady!" Dean exclaimed suddenly. "On the porch! Shritgas usually take the form of an old lady when they go human."

Sam looked sharply at Josh. "How about the man? Think he could have been a demon?"

Josh shook his head. "Nope. Maybe ghoul or shritga or even werewolf, but he definitely wasn't vamp or demon."

"How do you know?" Sam pressed.

"Well vamps are cold, for one thing. I found that out yesterday. I shook his hand and he was warm. As for demon, he didn't flinch when I said Christo."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "How the Hell did you get the word Christo into the conversation?"

Josh grinned, extending his arm out to Dean as if offering to shake hands. "G'day, mate. Name's Christo Williams," he said in a thick but perfect Australian accent. "I'm in town from Sydney and thought I'd drop by and see my old friend Eller. D'ya know if she's about?"

Dean laughed in approval. "Throw another shrimp on the barbie. Nice play."

Sam's attention, however, was still on the case and he wasn't much in the mood for laughing. They'd just lost the fifth witch. If Lillith had somehow managed to get another ghoul in the mix, she would be free and clear to perform the ritual. "Okay," he frowned, "we need to find four monsters. Fast."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

It was dusk in the Philippines and there was a light, monsoon wind coming in from the southeast. Castiel stood in contemplative solitude on the roof of a fifty-seven storey high-rise in Manila, gazing out over the ocean as the last yellow rays of the sun were swallowed by the approaching darkness.

A bright, white light shone briefly behind him but the angel didn't turn around. There was a fluttering noise and a vaguely luminescent, non-human figure appeared at his side, its majestic wings tucking miraculously away as it approached.

"This is a surprise," Cas said finally, with no surprise evident in his voice.

"_I thought I'd find you here_," the second angel replied though no audible sound was made. "_It looks a lot different than it did when you used to seek revelation here many centuries ago_."

Cas made no reply but the newcomer continued the casual chatter. "_This whole area was trees and, if I remember correctly, the most magnificent beach of golden sands. You always did have an eye for our Father's more beautiful creations, Castiel. I never understood how you could enjoy such a humid climate though._"

"What are you doing here, Miniel?" Cas finally asked, turning to look at the figure next to him.

"_I've been hearing disturbing whispers. Whispers about you. I am troubled_."

"And what whispers have you heard?" Castiel looked away, not sure why he had bothered to ask for he already knew the answer. He too had heard the whispers.

"_Word is you are getting too close to your human charge_."

"The task of guiding and protecting him was bestowed upon me," the angel in human form defended. "I take my duty very seriously."

"_Little brother, I am not here to judge you_."

"Then why are you here? I haven't spoken to you in close to a thousand years."

"_Actually, it has been exactly a thousand years_."

Castiel remained silent. Miniel sighed inwardly.

"_I sought you out because I understand your situation_," he explained silently into his troubled brother's head.

"My situation?" Cas was surprised at his old comrade's sudden appearance but found himself eager to hear his words. Like him, Miniel had always appreciated the wonderful complexities of man and expressed a genuine fondness towards them. That fondness, in fact, had brought much suffering on the disgraced angel.

"_Castiel, I know what it is like to walk the earth invisible and unnoticed, just watching and observing. As you are aware, that is all I have been permitted to do for a thousand years now. But I also remember what it is like to instead take a vessel and interact with the humans, having them see you and touch you and…_" he paused, clearly censoring his next thought before continuing, _"…affect you. I know too well how compelling the attentions of a human can be, how influential their emotions can be_."

Cas found himself growing increasingly defensive and briefly wondered if Zachariah had sent Castiel's old comrade to speak to him. "You have not been permitted to inhabit a vessel for a thousand years, Miniel. You disobeyed an order from Heaven for the sake of a human," he pointed out.

"_A mistake I do not wish you to make also, Castiel_."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "You fell in love with a human girl," he accused. "You betrayed your fellow angels to save the life of a human whose fate it was to die. You…"

Miniel's thoughts cut him off. "_Fate put me there in a position to save her! If it was our Father's will that she die, he would not have made it so_," he said with a hint of anger.

"It's not my place to lay judgment upon you, brother," Cas assured him, his shoulders relaxing. Although he had disapproved of the choices Miniel had made, Cas had forgiven him centuries ago. "You have paid for your disobedience. Your thousand years of penance have now been served. I can assure you I am in no danger of following in your footsteps. I am not in love with Dean Winchester."

"_There are many types of love, Castiel. Love of a friend. Love of a brother. And of course, true love, the love I fell victim to a millennium ago." _His non-voice hardened slightly at his next words. _"Love is a powerful emotion that our kind is only permitted so that we may bestow it upon our Father and better serve Heaven_."

Castiel couldn't be sure but he thought he detected a hint of bitterness in his old friend's last remark. He had spent many centuries in this world with Miniel and had thought he knew him well. Miniel's keen interest and fascination with humanity had earned him many assignments that involved taking a human vessel and walking amoung them, far more than Uriel, Anna, or himself had ever been given. Cas had disapproved vehemently when Miniel had disgraced himself and up until a year ago, he would have voiced his disappointment all over again. Standing next to his brother now, however, he finally felt a flicker of understanding.

Miniel was silent for a moment. Cas watched him, admiring the angel's true visage, however subdued it may be at the moment. An angel in its true form left unrestrained and free was gloriously magnificent but would certainly attract unwanted attention standing on a rooftop in a busy city, so Miniel was making a strong effort to suppress his luminescent splendor. He was gazing silently over the ocean in deep thought now, much as Castiel had been before the arrival of company.

When Miniel spoke, however, he did not voice words of understanding or encouragement but instead delivered a stern warning.

"_Do not allow your judgment to be clouded, Castiel. I remember the confusion I felt when a human first laid their faith in me. When they opened their heart and spoke to me as a friend, not as an angel. I remember the sense of responsibility I suddenly felt for that human. That bond - that feeling - although tempting and powerful, comes at the expense of your faith_."

Castiel wished he wasn't in his human vessel because Jimmy's face seemed to automatically betray whatever emotions Cas was experiencing - emotions he was not supposed to be experiencing. He covered any that may have inadvertently reached Jimmy's boyish features by pulling a scowl over them. "I appreciate the warning but I assure you your words are entirely unnecessary. I serve our Father and only our Father."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

The three men stopped for an early lunch on the way back to the motel, much to Josh's delight. "This is different," he announced. "I mean, you guys are like robots. I'm used to hunting with Lexie. My sister hates dead bodies. No way she'd be able to grab a bite after seeing what we just saw."

"You don't seem that shaken up about it," Sam pointed out.

"Honestly, I almost lost my breakfast back there," Josh admitted. "And I hate it when we're too late and some innocent person dies, but you gotta keep trying, right? You might not be too late for the next person."

"So what, now you're a hunter?" Sam teased, referring to the claim both Brentons had continually made that they weren't actually hunters.

Josh shrugged. "With angels running around the planet and demons spouting off about the Apocalypse and all, I'm figuring you guys can use all the help you can get."

Sam nodded in approval. "My sentiments exactly."

"Hey!" Dean interceded indignantly. "We do alright!"

"Not us personally, Dean," Sam clarified. "But things are getting messy and the more hunters in the game, the better. This isn't any time for capable people who know monsters are real to be taking a time out." He gave his brother a pointed look that clearly showed his opinion on ditching Josh and letting him or anyone else sit this one out. It was all hands on deck.

Dean's stomach knotted at the memory of Sam dragging Adam so recklessly into this dangerous way of life. Dean knew he could never escape it but that didn't mean he wanted it for anyone else, Josh included.

"So does this mean you're gonna tell me what's going on?" Josh asked hopefully. He hadn't been pressing for details in case it pushed the Winchesters into giving him the slip and taking away any chance he had of finding out where his sister was but they seemed to be warming up to him.

Dean leaned back in the gaudy vinyl booth bench just as the waitress approached with their food. "You already know more than most, dude. Let's just leave it at that."

The waitress turned out to be quite flirty and by the end of the meal, getting her number had escalated into a fierce but friendly competition between the two elder hunters, neither of which seemed to be having any luck sealing the deal.

"Guys, she's just playing you for tips," Sam said, embarrassed as usual at the lines these two were feeding the pretty but obviously cosmetically enhanced blonde.

Josh laughed. "If you ask me," he observed, "she's waiting for you to join in. Bet you'd get her number in a heartbeat if you were inclined to try."

"I'm not," Sam huffed.

Josh looked over at the waitress then back at Sam, shaking his head in disbelief. "You got something going on with the little brunette hunter chick?"

Sam and Dean both gave Josh a quizzical look.

"At Ella's grandmother's place," Josh explained. "Some things are pretty foggy," he admitted, "but I'm sure I didn't imagine her. She had a nice ass."

Dean snorted and Sam rolled his eyes. "There's nothing going on between me and her," Sam lied.

Josh didn't believe him. "So she's fair game then?" he asked, trying to force an admission out of Sam. "I wouldn't mind getting me some of that."

Dean snorted again. "Trust me, buddy, she's not your type."

Josh laughed. "I just got out of jail. I don't have a type."

"You've got a species, don't you?" Dean asked, chuckling at the look of astonishment on his friend's face.

"What? Whoa, demon?"

Dean nodded. Sam dug back into his food, avoiding the conversation.

"Okay, you got me. Even I have standards. Doesn't matter how tight her ass was, it can't make up for demon. That's just nasty." Josh curled his lip in distaste, not noticing the pointed and smug look Dean threw his little brother. "Why was she helping you then?"

Dean shrugged. "Not so sure she is," he answered.

"Okay, let's not forget we'd all be dead right now if she hadn't shown up!" Sam interjected with enough malice to silence the older two. They all focused on their meals for a few minutes until Dean's phone rang, the first few chords of Zepplin's _Kashmir_ grinding out of his pocket before he could answer it.

"Bobby, what's up?"

"_I was gonna ask you the same thing. There's a lot of buzz goin' round Denver_."

"What kind of buzz?"

"_Gee, let me think. There's been a werewolf, a vampire, and a shritga all playing in the same building. You ain't the only hunters in the country, ya idjit. They're all over this thing like flies on shit. I was gonna suggest you and your brother haul ass out of there. Some hunters don't necessarily take too kindly to you two_."

"Can't." Dean answered matter-of-factly. "God's orders."

"_Castiel?_" Bobby always put things together quickly. "_He told you to work this? Is this a seal?_"

"Yep. A big one." Dean sighed into the phone, not wanting to bother his old friend with the next piece of bad news. "It's number sixty," he said quietly, glancing up at Josh as he spoke even though he knew there was no way the less-informed man could figure out what Dean was talking about from just one side of the conversation.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. "_Sixty?_" Bobby sounded almost scared. Bobby never sounded scared. "_How are things comin' then? Think you'll be able to stop it?_"

"Well, the witches are all dead and now the creatures that killed them are to be part of some sort of ritual that will open a gate to Hell," Dean explained. "There's a vamp, a werewolf, a shritga, and a ghoul. We killed the ghoul so we may be homefree, but Cas says Lillith would likely have a back-up plan so we can't be too sure."

"_Well, your angel-buddy is right_," Bobby admitted grudgingly. "_Listen, you boys be careful._"

Dean smiled at the concerned advice. "Aren't we always?" he replied sarcastically.

Bobby grunted his disagreement. "_Well, thanks to your new friend, you may not have a doctor to stitch you up next time so don't go gettin' yourself all bloodied up. Call me back if you need anything – I'll keep you posted on any information that comes my way."_

Bobby hung up, leaving Dean to look quizzically at his phone and wondering what the remark on the doctor was about. "Bhodi, you forgetting to tell us something?" he asked Josh.

Josh winced. "Is this about Lucas?"

Dean nodded.

"Huh. Well, I may have burned that particular bridge for you two," he admitted.

"How?" Sam asked, more curious than upset. They were used to patching up their own injuries anyway.

"Uh, remember the receptionist?"

Dean nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "She was hot."

"Tell me about it. And she had a great bedside manner too."

Sam dropped his fork on the table and groaned loudly, shaking his head in disapproval. Like one Dean wasn't enough to deal with.

Josh continued, at least having the decency to look sheepish. "She also forgot to mention that she was Lucas's daughter."

Dean snorted his laughter into his coke. "That's why you forgot your phone," he accused.

Josh nodded. "I got sent outta there pretty fast. I had to steal a shirt from a clothesline in the neighbor's yard."

"You know, if you guys put as much effort into this hunt as chasing tail, we might be getting somewhere!" Sam snapped. He wasn't even aware his leg was twitching under the table and his fingers absently brushing the flask in his pocket.

"Whoa, what's with the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine?" Josh fired back at Sam, surprised at the angry outburst.

"And why am I getting thrown into this?" Dean argued, his voice slightly raised. He resented the accusation that he would let his extra-curricular activities get in the way of a hunt. Sam was way out of line.

Josh bit his lip, still offended at Sam's remark but deciding to hold his tongue. The kid was probably just stressed about the gravity of the gate-to-Hell situation. He held his hands up as a gesture of peace.

"Okay, okay," he said calmly, turning to Sam. "I apologize if I've put you guys in an awkward situation. I was out of commission at the time and it wasn't affecting the hunt. Besides," he picked up a fry and popped it in his mouth. "I'd been in jail for almost six months. Can you really blame me?"

Sam feigned a dismissive look, returning his attention to his food. Dean's jaw was tense but he too agreed to drop the subject and shoveled the last of his burger into his mouth. Josh studied them both as surreptitiously as he could and wondered what had happened between them to cause the apparent canyon-wide rift that clearly had nothing to do with him getting laid.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

"I don't get it," Josh said, closing his laptop in frustration.

"Get what?" Sam snapped his phone shut, ending his fifteenth useless phone call in search of clues.

"If there are so many monsters running about Denver, shouldn't there be more weird stuff going on? You know, murders and mayhem. I just hacked the police 9-1-1 call log and there's nothing out of the ordinary in the past two days besides the dead witches we already know about."

Sam looked thoughtful. His FBI impersonations to all the various departments of Denver PD had been equally futile. "Maybe Lillith is keeping them on a short leash."

"And Lillith is what, the head demon?"

"Yep. Queen Bitch," Dean chimed in.

"The one trying to bring on the Apocalypse?" Josh fished.

"That would be the one." Sam pulled his face into a frown, his usual deep thinking pose. "You know," he said, "I think the vampire will be the easiest to find."

"Why's that?" Dean asked.

"'Cause we know what he looks like. I think it's Ivan."

"Ivan, the teenager? The punk who came charging in to attack Ella?" Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow at his brother. "You think he's the one who's supposed to be in the ritual?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, sitting up straight as it all came together in his mind. "Both of the shritgas killed the witches right away rather than making them sick. Bobby said the older a shritga gets, the faster its victim dies. So we know they were both really old. The werewolf went after a specific target which implies it retained rational thought even in animal form," he continued. "So we know it must be really old too. Kim said she was six hundred. Again, that's really old for a ghoul."

"How does that point the finger to Ivan?" Josh asked, not really remembering much about the vamp except that his fortuitous arrival in the cellar yesterday had probably saved him from sprouting fangs himself.

"Ivan told me he's probably the oldest vamp on the planet," Sam explained.

"Okay, but how does that help us find him?" Dean questioned.

Sam shrugged. "Well it doesn't but vamps are a little more predictable than the others," he offered. "They run in packs. They sleep most of the day. They tend to hole up in abandoned, secluded places. They like to drink and party so they often frequent bars. We should be able to find them even without a blood trail."

The other two didn't look convinced. Denver was a huge city, not like the rural podunk towns most creatures of the supernatural usually had their fun in.

"What are our other options?" Sam demanded, annoyed that they weren't jumping to follow his suggestion. "We could try the graveyards for a ghoul but that's a slim chance, especially in the daytime. Even though it's full moon, we have no clue where to find a werewolf in the day because he'll be human. You got any leads on the old lady from Ella's? 'Cause I don't. We flaked out on that one and didn't think to get the license plate of their car."

"Alright," Dean conceded, rising to his feet. "A door to door search of the city's abandoned warehouses is a longshot but it's all we got right now."

Sam couldn't help but be irritated by the fact that Josh stood up also, apparently waiting for Dean to agree to the plan. He shrugged it off quickly, realizing he was probably reading something into nothing and was being childish. Sam booted his laptop back up and did a quick search for all the likely properties in town that would serve as a vampire hideout while Dean sorted through what weapons they would need. Fifteen minutes later they were on the road again.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**May 2009**_ _**(two weeks prior)...**_

"What do you mean you asked her to come stay for a couple of days?" Alex was being as polite as she could to Bobby, who looked incredibly uncomfortable standing by the door with his keys in his hand. She wasn't able to completely keep the offense she was taking at the humiliating situation from her voice though even though she knew it was coming across more like anger. "I don't get it; you don't trust me in your house?"

"No, of course I do, it's just that I could be gone a while and…"

"And what? I don't need a babysitter B! I've told you a hundred times, I'm fine. I have been alone before, you know. I'm _twenty_-five, not five!"

The mechanic looked increasingly panicked as Ellen was making her way up the porch steps and would be at the door any second. The last thing he needed was her to be snubbed after agreeing to do him this huge favour. This was the first time Alex had argued anything non-music related with him and he was a bit surprised at her reaction. He had seriously just expected her to meekly say okay and greet Ellen politely.

He supposed the young blonde did have a point. She was fully capable of taking care of herself and certainly didn't need a chaperone. But he was aware she had the occasional nightmare and was noticeably shaken by them, whether she admitted it or not. Bobby was observant and had figured out she wasn't a big fan of being alone. There was also that remote possibility that Red Eyes would somehow find her and Bobby was sickened at the thought of her having to face him alone again. While she was staying at his house she was under his protection.

Besides, he didn't think Dean would take it very well if anything happened to her and would do anything to spare the kid any more grief after losing Adam last week.

"I know, I know," he agreed pleadingly, "But uh…" He ran out of time as there was a knock at the door. He opened it with a sigh and greeted Ellen, introducing her quickly to Alex. To his surprise and relief, Alex smiled politely and kept any resentment of her presence hidden. Hoping he hadn't pissed the girl off too much, he left, hunkering down in his old truck for the long drive to Utah where an old hunter friend needed help with a persistent poltergeist.

Alex fell right back into her old habit of being polite and friendly without sharing even a hint of personal information. Ellen seemed nice enough but the younger woman wasn't sure what she knew about Bobby and hunting and, most of all, her situation – namely Red Eyes and her psychic freak radar. Bobby had sprung this little arrangement on her without much explanation and, as grateful as she was to not be in the big house alone, it sucked to have to be on her guard again. She had begun to relax around Bobby, not just because he was a hunter, but because he had to be the kindest, faux-grumpy older dude she'd ever met. Not that she'd ever tell him that, though; they'd both probably drop dead from embarrassment.

After a day of short, polite conversations, it became apparent Ellen was a no-nonsense kind of person. She looked across the kitchen table at Alex the next morning with a thoughtful expression on her face and blurted "So, Bobby tells me you hunt with your brother."

Alex looked up, realizing she shouldn't really be surprised. If Ellen didn't know Bobby was a hunter, she would surely have questioned why the mechanic had a giant heptagram painted on his ceiling.

"Bobby didn't tell you?" Ellen laughed. "I'm a hunter too. My husband was a hunter, most of my friends are hunters, and my stubborn daughter is a hunter."

"Oh," Alex relaxed, silently thanking Bobby in her head. "Yeah, I hunt sometimes with my brother. He's in jail right now but he should be out in a couple of weeks."

Ellen was not shy on sharing and told Alex how she once owned a bar that hunters frequented but now she traveled with her daughter, Jo. Ellen would have preferred to stay within the intel and networking aspects of hunting but her headstrong offspring insisted on charging the front lines. "You'd probably like her," she smiled. "She's just about your age."

The next couple of days went by quickly. Alex was immensely impressed with Ellen, finding her to be tough but kind of motherly in a takes-no-shit-from-anyone kind of way. The hunter went so far as to slap the delivery boy upside the head when he harmlessly (if obviously) looked the older woman up and down with a "Hellooooo ladies!" when she answered the door**. **McLovin – Alex couldn't remember his real name, Dan or Dave or something – had looked terrified and had accepted Ellen's dressing down with a series of squealed 'Yes Ma'ams'. Alex hadn't dared interrupt and mouthed the words _'I'm sorry'_ to him from her position behind the stern ex-bartender all the while trying not to laugh at his predicament.

Ellen tactfully never brought up the subject of Oceanview. It was clear she was very fond of the Winchester brothers, though she apparently had a beef with Dean that he hadn't called her when he'd been rescued from Hell. She was just stubborn enough that she was refusing to call him first, convinced he'd get around to it at some point. Alex had her doubts about that, figuring the hunter was clueless that Ellen cared about him as much as she did – that _anyone_ cared about him as much as they all did.

It was in the middle of the third night that Alex thought she heard a man's voice from upstairs. Not much sound penetrated the walls of the panic room she was staying in though, so she came out to investigate. She climbed the steps, her mouth spreading into a grin when she recognized Bobby's gruff drawl as she neared the kitchen.

She froze in the hallway though, stopped short by the raspy tone of Ellen's voice, which sounded as if she were on the verge of crying. Alex didn't want to intrude on a potentially private moment so she held silent and still for a moment, ready to sneak back down the stairs unnoticed if necessary.

"So you read her file?" Bobby was saying, keeping his voice low.

"Yeah. I snuck a peek at it, like you asked, to see if I could add anything." Ellen answered. "There's a report from Dennison that says in '91 when she was about eight, she had told her brother that two men had come to the house and convinced her to sneak out and set a trap so they could kill the monster."

"Yeah," Bobby acknowledged. "Dean said that was two hunters. Alex told him that one of them got killed when it all went down."

"The hunter that got killed was Bill," Ellen choked out.

Alex slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her own gasp of horror. Bill was Ellen's late husband, William Harvelle. Ellen had told her more than once what a kind and loving husband and father he had been and how she had missed him every day for almost twenty years. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as she leaned back against the wall, almost too mortified to keep listening.

"How do you know?" Bobby asked gently after a brief silence.

"Right time, right place. We had argued because it was Jo's birthday that weekend and he had promised to be there for it. But when he told me it was a demon hurting a little girl, I let him go. John promised me it was a straightforward hunt. They were gonna lure the thing out and kill it. Now I know Bill never woulda let John use the girl as bait so he musta stayed with her when it came."

"I'm so sorry Ellen." Alex heard Bobby sigh. "Though it's not like John Winchester to leave a hunt unfinished," he added with a hint of disbelief.

"Says here her parents got scared because she was dropped off in the middle of the night at the door covered in someone else's blood. CPS was already breathing down their necks about the number of bruises she was always getting so the family up and moved away that week. John probably lost track of them. Besides, he took things pretty hard; didn't come around much after…" Ellen cut herself off and was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, there was anger in her tone.

"My husband died trying to kill this thing," she spat, her voice getting louder.

"Now now," Bobby urged quietly, "can we take this outside to the porch? Just in case."

Alex backed into a dark corner behind the door, desperately hoping Ellen wouldn't see her standing there. She really didn't want to face her right now, not after what she had apparently cost her. She hadn't missed the hostility in Ellen's voice.

As the two older hunters passed the hallway, neither one saw the blonde in the shadows, a stream of tears flowing freely down her face. As soon as they were gone, Alex ran back downstairs to the safety and comfort of the panic room.

Outside on the porch, Bobby and Ellen spoke in hushed voices for a few moments, sharing their information. Finally claiming she felt a strong urge to get back to Jo, Ellen headed down the porch steps to her truck. She paused with her hand on the pick-up's door handle and turned to face the mechanic.

"You need to kill this thing, Bobby," she said urgently. "Bill died trying to protect that poor little girl and if we let that bastard finish her off, that'll all have been in vain. Now, my husband would have gladly died to save a child, but not for her to spend the rest of her life running in fear. That just ain't right. I'll find out what I can and I'll send you the little I have already, but promise me you'll finish it. _Promise_ me."

Bobby nodded gravely. "I'm workin' on it," he sighed.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 2009**_

After a quick stop at the morgue to score some dead man's blood, the hunters started checking out the fourteen abandoned warehouses on Sam's list. The first one turned up nothing but rats, however the second looked more promising. A sprawling series of empty warehouses and fabrication shops sported dirty, dented and faded metal siding littered with an array of spray-painted graffiti.

The men decided to split up in an effort to speed up the search. The plan was to call the others before engaging any vamps they might come across. Worried about Dean's foolhardy stubborn streak kicking in, Sam reminded his brother that Ivan may still be particularly strong after having fed on the younger Winchester's demon-tainted blood and should not be tackled alone under any circumstances.

Sam decided to start at the farthermost end of the sprawling facility and work his way back towards the car. He was carrying a dagger on the off chance he needed to behead a vamp and tucked it inside his thin jacket as he searched the place for signs of undead squatters. It was fairly quick work as most of the rooms and shop areas were empty. He entered a large machine room and noticed a couple of woven hammocks suspended between steel posts. Instantly on guard, he drew his gun and worked his way around the derelict machinery, hoping not to startle an unsuspecting homeless person.

He was checking behind the boiler when he felt a cold metal object press into the back of his neck. He had enough experience to know it was a gun.

"You look a little clean to be a vagrant," a man's calm voice sounded from behind him in a rich, Texas drawl.

Sam cursed himself for letting this dude get the drop on him. He ruled out spinning and grabbing the gun because having crept up on a Winchester, the guy clearly had skills. He raised his hands to shoulder height slowly and took a step forward, relieved the instant the pressure on his neck disappeared. He turned around to face his attacker, hoping to God he was alone and that he didn't have fangs.

His silent prayer must have paid off for there was only one man standing there. He was about Sam's age, a few inches shorter which still put him at about six feet, and had longish brown hair sticking out from under a tan cowboy hat. He was aiming a pearl handled revolver at Sam's chest with one hand and his other was fingering the hilt of a sword under his brown duster.

Sam raised an eyebrow, squaring his shoulders towards the stranger. "Dude," he snorted, thankful his gun and his dagger were hidden under his jacket. "What's with the dressup routine?"

The guy narrowed his eyes at Sam. "Now that's a bit disrespectful for a feller in your position, don't ya reckon?"

Seeing Dean materialize silently from the darkness behind the man, Sam laid on the sarcasm in hopes of distracting the threat, saying whatever he thought Dean would have come up with in that situation. "My apologies, Aragorn. Lemme guess, you want me to hand over my valuables. My ring maybe?"

The guy scowled in obvious annoyance. "What are you doing in here smartass?" he demanded.

Sam never had to reply for that very second, Dean's Colt pressed up against the man's neck. Sam couldn't help but notice the guy barely flinched and the revolver pointed at him never wavered.

"I was just about to ask you the same question, Buffalo Bill," Dean purred into the stranger's ear. "I suggest you stop pointing your piece at my little brother or I'm gonna pull a Pat Garrett on you."

"Pat Garrett shot Billy the Kid, not Buffalo Bill," the guy retorted, his gun still trained at Sam center mass and his eyes never leaving Sam's face. "And if you shoot me, my trigger finger here just might twitch and it'll be bye bye little brother."

"You'll still be dead," Dean deadpanned. He suddenly sniffed loudly, a look of disgust distorting his face. "Dude you stink."

Josh suddenly entered from a side door, seeing Sam first. "What, are you slacking off Junior?" he chirped before suddenly taking note of the Mexican standoff and scrambling to draw his own 'all purpose gun'. He aimed it quickly at the stranger's head, cursing loudly.

"Looks like you're outnumbered, _Billy_," Dean gloated, his voice ice cold.

The stranger was looking at the latest arrival. "Jawsh?" he drawled.

Josh knitted his brow in momentary confusion before his shoulders suddenly relaxed and he lowered his gun, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"Well I'll be damned," he laughed. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_I love Ellen and thought I would tie her past into the story by giving the monster that killed her husband a face. More to come on that front as Alex doesn't take the news very well. _

_Miniel is a new OC angel I introduced to befriend Cas and he does have an important role to play in Cas's revelations that lead up to the episode 'The Rapture', which happens right after this story (where Cas tries to tell Dean something and gets sent back upstairs for re-educating, leaving the boys with Jimmy and where Dean sees Sam drinking the demon blood for the first time). _

_Sam is a full-blow junkie in this story so remember his thoughts and views are often affected by his addiction - the highs and lows. I am a huge Sam fan but this was a dark time for him._

_**Next chap**: Sam and Dean tousle with some more vampires and... play Guitar Hero? _


	11. This Job Really Sucks Some Days

**CHAPTER 11**- **This Job Really Sucks Some Days**

"You know this douchebag?" Dean asked Josh, not lowering his gun.

"Yep." Josh walked over, still grinning. "Jesus guys, put the friggin' guns away, would you? We're all on the same side here."

The cowboy lowered his revolver slowly though he didn't move away from the less trusting hunter behind him or the .45 muzzle still pressed up against his neck. Sam relaxed now that he was no longer staring down a barrel.

"This is Colby Hutchins," Josh introduced, reaching out and pushing Dean's gun away from the man's head. Dean gave him a slightly offended look but didn't resist, taking a step back.

"Colby's a hunter," Josh informed the Winchesters and giving the Texan a friendly handshake. "What's it been Cole, seven years?"

Colby was still grinning widely. "Six and a bit." He turned and looked back and forth from Dean to Sam. "Who are your friends?"

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Josh answered, pointing at each brother as he identified them. He realized belatedly by their scowls that neither of them had particularly wanted their identities revealed. _Oops_.

"The Winchesters? No shit." Colby raised an eyebrow.

"You've heard of them?"

Colby snorted. "Who hasn't? These two are like hunting royalty, my friend. Don't you know whose company yer keepin'? Hey, speakin' of company, is yer sis here?"

Josh's grin disappeared. "No. Your hunting royalty, Prince TweedleDee and Prince Tweedledum here, won't tell me where she is."

"What? Why?" Colby looked confused.

"Never mind," Josh sighed. "Long story. So what are you hunting?"

"Nest o' vamps. Leader's a mean sucker goes by the name Ivan."

"You've been tracking Ivan's nest?" Sam interjected, suddenly very curious.

Colby gave him a hard stare before nodding. "Yep. Been on his tail for about a month now. He runs with a pack of about seventeen or eighteen, the largest nest I've ever heard of. They have a fondness for warehouses and factories like this one. He mostly sticks to more rural towns though. I'm not sure what he's doin' in Denver."

"We have a pretty good idea," Josh offered before either of the less-trusting Winchesters could stop him. "And his pack's down by four or five as of yesterday," he grinned. "Thanks to these two," he added, giving Sam and Dean their due credit.

"I see they got a taste of you first," Colby observed, pointing at the scabbed-over vamp-bite on Josh's neck.

"What can I say?" Josh grinned, "I'm irresistible."

"You got any angels around?" Colby asked, changing the subject abruptly and jerking his chin at Dean.

"What do you know about angels?" Dean demanded, still tense with uncertainty about this guy. Josh may trust him but that didn't mean he merited the Winchester's trust. After all, Josh had been wrong before - he had trusted the Winchesters with his sister.

"Bits and pieces, same as most," Colby answered somewhat evasively.

"Bro, you reek," Josh said suddenly, wrinkling his nose at his old friend.

"It's a little concoction I like to call Vamp-away," the man answered with a shrug. "Saffron, trillium, sumscavage... some other shit. Keeps vamps from gaining your scent 'cause once they got it, they never forget it."

"We've searched this whole place and Ivan's not here," Sam spoke up, not wanting to waste any more time. "Can you tell us where you've already searched, maybe help us narrow it down?"

"Sorry man, this is my first stop. Passed it on the way into town and decided to check it out."

"Dressed as Clint Eastwood?" Josh teased. Clearly the blond man's jovial camaraderie wasn't limited to the Winchesters.

"This is Denver, Jawsh. Nobody looks twice at a guy in a duster. You, on the other hand, stand out like a sore thumb with your pansy ass pastel t-shirts," Colby ribbed in an equally friendly tone. "Besides," he pulled out his sword, which was an impressive, three-foot silver blade with an intricately carved handle. "Gotta hide this somewhere."

Josh took the weapon, turning it over in his hands and whistling in admiration. "I remember this. You still toting this thing around?" he grinned before handing it back. "Tell you what. We got a list of potential warehouses," he offered, ignoring the fact that the brothers were still fingering their weapons and eyeing the new guy warily. "Wanna team up? Team Winchester here can take six and we'll take six."

Colby grinned, taking his sword back and sheathing it inside his coat again. "Sounds good to me. Where you parked?"

SPN-SPN-SPN

"Dude, we usually work alone," Dean scolded Josh as they waited alongside the Impala and the Bronco for Colby to bring his car around. "I mean, there's a lot of shit that's been going down and some hunters don't particularly like us."

"He means some hunters don't particularly like me," Sam corrected.

"Why? Because of the demon blood thing?" Josh asked, surprised other people even knew about Sam's tainted blood.

"I'd like to think most people don't really know about that," Sam answered. "Some have suspicions, I think. But demons talk when they're being exorcized and there have been a lot of demons around getting exorcized the past couple of years. Hunters have heard all sorts of things about me."

"About _us_," Dean insisted, giving his brother the usual _'this isn't all your fault'_ look.

"Don't worry," Josh assured them. "I'm not gonna tell him anything personal but we could use all the help we can get rounding up these four monsters."

"Well, I don't trust him," Dean huffed, not liking bringing yet another hunter into the mix. Another potential Gordon Walker.

A candy-apple red 1969 Mustang Mach 1 Fastback purred its way around the corner of the building and pulled up next to Josh's Bronco.

"I take it back," Dean breathed. "This guy's awesome!"

Sam rolled his eyes.

Colby exited the car, holding the door open while a large, Siberian husky followed him out.

"Hey!" Josh exclaimed. "Is that Shelby?"

Dean snorted. "Shelby? It's a Mach 1 dude. Not a Shelby."

Josh bent down on one knee and greeted the dog, who returned the love with a series of slobbery kisses and an enthusiastically wagging tail. "I was talking about the dog, smartass. She was barely a year old last time I saw her. Hey girl! You remember me?"

"She remembers you as the brother of her one true love," Colby grinned.

Josh stood up. "Yeah, she really did have a thing for Lexie, didn't she?"

Colby didn't answer, however, as his attention had just been snatched by the sleek, black beauty parked on the other side of Josh's Bronco. The next twenty minutes were spent with three of the four men bent over under the hoods of the two classic cars, their owners beaming with pride and graciously accepting the many compliments their babies were being given. The fourth hunter stood impatiently, leaning against the passenger door of his brother's Impala, wondering how hunks of metal could be such objects of obsession and basically feeling left out and awkward. Even the dog ignored him.

Sam glanced over at Dean, who was grinning like a kid in a candy store as he fiddled around with some part under the Mustang's hood. For a guy who never wanted normal and never thought he fit in, Dean always seemed to strike up friendships easily, even if they were short-lived. In every school they had attended growing up, Dean had been one of the cool kids, the bad ass that everybody wanted to hang around with. Sam's few friends had been nerds and loners, just glad to have someone they could relate to.

SPN-SPN-SPN

"We stink," Dean griped, tilting his head down and taking an unpleasant whiff of his own jacket as he and Sam wandered through a dirty old plastic plant on Denver's east side.

"It's a precaution," Sam droned, trying as usual not to get annoyed at his brother's persistent complaining. "The last thing we need is some pissed off supervamp getting our scent."

"Vamp-away," Dean joked, chuckling at the newcomer's name for the ash concoction he had provided them with before heading off with Josh. He turned to Sam. "You know, we should put a patent on salt rounds," he grinned. "Could make a mint, especially these days."

Sam wasn't in the mood for joking around. He had finished the flask of demon blood Ruby had provided and now she wasn't answering her phone. She had told him to keep the demon blood dosage high for a while but then she'd disappeared after her spat with Dean. Damnit! Why couldn't those two just get along? Why couldn't his brother see she was helping?

"That's just stupid, Dean," he said irritably.

Dean's grin disappeared and his eyes turned to narrow slits as he glared at his brother. "Well, aren't you a barrel of fun today?" he snapped.

"So sorry I'm not as much fun as your surfer buddy," Sam retorted, feeling childish even as the words escaped his mouth.

Dean was getting angry at his brother's foul mood. "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Sam dismissed. "Can we just focus on the job, please?"

The next four warehouses were searched in virtual silence and no signs of vampires were found. They did, however, find a drug-ravaged hooker using a dirty mattress in a dark corner of one warehouse to turn tricks, much to the disgust and pity of both brothers and much to the embarrassment of the man currently receiving her services. Dean intimidated him into leaving and gave the girl ten dollars and some instructions to go get a sandwich.

The last place on their half of the list was an old shoe factory, shut down some two decades ago. The main assembly room was full of old equipment but nothing else and the brothers moved on to the smaller stockrooms and offices in the back, searching them one by one.

Dean was peeking behind a pile of empty wooden crates when he heard a noise behind him. He spun quickly, reaching for the machete he was carrying but wasn't quick enough to get it in front of him. He fell crashing backwards to the floor and a slim female with fangs landed on top of him.

"Sam!" he managed to get out as he fought to keep her sharp savage teeth away from his neck.

Sam heard his brother's cry and was slicing the head off the vamp on top of him within seconds, grabbing her hair and keeping the dagger close to avoid inadvertently lobbing off one of Dean's hands. As the body fell sideways, he reached down and grabbed his brother's wrist, pulling him up off the floor.

Once on his feet, Dean rolled his shoulders, looking at the body with distaste. "Thanks," he offered with genuine gratitude.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Sam replied, glancing around for more vampires. They generally didn't travel alone.

This time was no exception. A man appeared in the doorway, stepping inside with a vicious scowl as he took note of the headless body on the floor. Another materialized directly after him. Sam and Dean immediately took defensive positions, their shoulders tensing as a third man and another woman filed into the room, now putting the odds at two to one. The group, presumably all vampires, fanned out around the Winchesters, circling them threateningly.

"Aw, look Sammy," Dean goaded, reaching surreptitiously into his jacket for a knife to use alongside the machete. "The headless chick has friends."

"That's a surprise," Sam continued the play, "'cause she was a bitch."

Not a single vampire spoke. The biggest in the group simply lunged forward, a large knife flashing out of his jacket and swinging towards Sam's face. Without the knife, Sam could have brought the dagger up and taken him out easily but as it was he was forced to step back to avoid the knife, which lessened the damage he was able to inflict and his dagger merely slashed the big man's shoulder. In one fluid motion though, he swung the smaller blade in his other hand around and plunged it into the man's left bicep before taking a quick step backwards. He threw a tight-lipped smile at the burly vamp before turning his attention to the one behind it.

Dean hadn't waited for one to come at him. The instant the big guy had lunged at Sam, he had started swinging, slicing the machete through the neck of the closest vamp, a scrawny, bearded fellow in leather pants. He got it most of the way through but had to pull away as the chick pulled her own knife and came at him. He parried a few times with her, getting a shallow slice across his chest before he managed to sink the smaller knife into her stomach. He kicked her away knowing she would be down in about fifteen seconds so he just had to avoid her until the dead man's blood on his knife had a chance to kick in. He took the opportunity to finish off the first one, cutting the machete through the second half of his neck.

Sam's knife had also been coated in dead man's blood but it hadn't yet taken affect on the big vamp he'd stabbed in the shoulder as he faced off against the second one. This one had the much brighter idea of bringing a two foot long lead pipe to the fight rather than a knife. He started swinging at Sam who managed to deflect the first few blows with the dagger but the first vamp grabbed a piece of 2x4 lumber from the ground and swung at him from the side also. One of these swings smacked the hunter's temple as he ducked, sending him reeling into the wall behind him. The vamp with the pipe lunged for him, knocking the dagger out of his hand with the lead. Sam's hand shot out and he grabbed the end of the pipe with a grip like a vice, knowing if he let go it would probably be the end of him.

He managed to keep the pipe still and, with his vision still slightly blurred from the hit to the head, took a stab at the vamp with the knife still in his other hand. He must have been moving slower than he realized, however, because the vamp blocked the jab, grabbing his hand and twisting it around. It leaned into him, pressing him against the wall as it thrust his hand downward, sinking the knife into Sam's thigh.

Sam cried out in surprised pain, shoving as hard as he could against the vampire, whose fangs were now out. Sam's mind flashed briefly to the memory of Ivan latching himself onto his neck and the horrifying feeling that followed and panic threatened to set in. He didn't dare let go of the knife in his leg as he was still wrestling with the vampire to keep it from penetrating any deeper.

_Damnit, if this was a demon he'd have wasted it with his power already!_

He looked up to see a machete blade slide towards him around the vampire's head and jerk backwards, digging deep into the creature's neck as it did so. The pressure on his leg subsided as Dean pulled the vamp's body away from his brother as he beheaded it.

Sam took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the stockroom wall. Dean finished off the guy with the lead pipe wordlessly and turned towards the one with the lumber, who was definitely feeling the effects of the dead man's blood now.

"No, wait," Sam panted. "We need to find out where Ivan is first."

Wincing in pain as he pulled the knife out of his thigh, Sam didn't notice Dean's flinch at the suggestion they 'question' the two vamps left alive. The girl and the one Sam had stabbed in the shoulder were both on the ground, groaning in pain from the poison.

The younger hunter stepped away from the wall, swaying enough to earn himself a very concerned look from his big brother.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asked, reaching his hand out to steady Sam. "You need that looked at?"

Sam shook his head, ripping a strip off the bottom of his t-shirt to tie around the leg wound until they could get back to the relative safety of the motel. "Nah," he urged. "Let's just do this. There could be more coming."

"There is," the woman spat, still clutching her stomach where Dean had sunk the knife with the dead man's blood. "Ivan's coming and he's gonna kill you."

"What, like you five did?" Dean retorted, not relishing a torture session if neither survivor was willing to spill.

"Your nest is working for the demons," Sam stated, not forming it as a question. "What do they want you to do for them?"

"Go to Hell," she answered, spitting blood as she did so.

"You first," said Sam coldly, retrieving his dagger from the floor and limping over to stand next to her. She glared at him and gnashed her pointed teeth but the extreme pain she was in was written all over her face and she was in no shape to fight him. He pulled a flask from his jacket and took his time pouring some of the dead man's blood from it onto the dagger blade, smirking when the anger in her eyes was replaced with mortal fear.

"I would say you don't really have enough dead man's blood in your system to kill you," Sam taunted, squatting somewhat stiffly down next to her. "So you can tell me what I want to know, in which case me and my brother walk out of here, or I can amp up your dosage a little bit at a time until you're begging me to cut your head off."

"Don't tell them anything Maya!" the second vamp yelled. Dean rewarded him with a blow to the head with the lead pipe that knocked him out cold. Every nerve in the hunter's body wanted to hack the heads off these two and get the Hell out of here, but he couldn't argue Sam's logic that they needed intel. Of course, that didn't make it any easier to watch his little brother calmly threaten and inevitably torture someone, even if it was a vampire. Dean was seeing in Sam what he had become in the pit, what he had been struggling so hard to come back from every day since Cas had pulled his undeserving, sorry ass out of there.

Sam grinned at her. "Maya, is it? Well Maya, I'm gonna count to three. Tell me what the demons' plans are or I start slicing."

Maya looked on the verge of passing out but she never took her eyes off Sam, fear pouring out of them. Dean knew that look. Her next words would be begging for mercy.

"Please," she pleaded in barely more than a whisper.

"One."

"Please, don't. I can't tell you. He'll kill me."

"Two."

"I can't, I can't. He sired me, I can't."

"Three."

"Okay! Okay!" she scrambled away from Sam as much as she could in her weakened state. "He's probably dead anyway. I'll tell you."

"What do you mean he's probably dead?" Sam pressed.

"The demons came. They sent like ten of them in here and they took Ivan."

"What for?" Dean interjected, having a good suspicion why the demons would forcibly take Ivan.

"The demons ordered him to drink the blood of some witch so he did and then he was supposed to take part in some hokey-pokey ritual with them but he changed his mind. He showed up here and told us to pack up 'cause we're leaving town and then they showed up and dragged him away. They killed Jeff and Clay and Rianne," she looked around the room as tears started to flow. "And now you've killed Robert and…and there's so few of us left," she fell into a whisper.

"Where was this ritual supposed to take place?" Sam pressed.

'I don't know," Maya answered through her sobs.

"Where!?" Sam yelled, pressing the blood-soaked dagger against her face.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" she stammered in a panicked voice. "That's all I know, I swear!"

Sam straightened up, hiding the flinch from the pain in his leg as he did so. "Then you're no use to us," he warned her threateningly. "What you've told us so far isn't worth squat."

She gasped in horror and her face contorted with both pain and fear. "Wait," she managed in a barely audible whisper. "I have more. Ivan…he…he drank some man's blood. Some man…with special powers or something, I dunno, but…it made him…superstrong." She looked pleadingly up at Sam. "That's gotta be worth something right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, Maya. It is. I'll make it quick." And with that he swung the eighteen inch dagger sharply down at her neck, killing her instantly.

Dean jerked at the suddenness of it, even though he didn't disagree with its necessity. He decided to man up and swung his own machete at the neck of the groggy vamp coming to at his feet. He stood up and looked around the room.

"Jesus, Sammy," he cursed, his voice husky as he scanned the five headless corpses littering the floor. "When did this all get so crazy?"

Old Sammy appeared behind the cold, hazel eyes staring at him as the hardness melted and compassion and regret flooded into them. "I know," Sam agreed softly, also noting the mass carnage. "This job really sucks some days."

SPN-SPN-SPN

Dean drove as usual on the way back to the motel, giving Sam concerned sideways glances the whole trip.

"You sure that leg's okay?" he asked for the third time.

"I'll be fine, Dean," Sam repeated. "I just need to get back to the motel to clean it up."

Momentarily appeased, Dean's thoughts moved back to the job. "So if Lillith took Ivan," he reasoned out loud, "Then she must still plan on finishing the ritual. He wouldn't be any good to her unless she's got all four parts, right? That means she's got another set of witch memories."

"Yeah, looks that way," Sam sighed. "And we have no more leads."

"Maybe Texas has something we can use."

Sam leaned back in his seat and let out a small chuckle, piquing Dean's curiosity.

"What?" the elder Winchester demanded.

"Nothing," Sam grinned. "It's just that I remembered something about Colby."

"Remembered?" Dean questioned, "We've never met him before, dude."

"No, but Alex mentioned him before," Sam clarified. "Remember in San Antonio when she told us about this hunter that traveled around in a Mustang with his dog?"

Dean knitted his brow in thought, trying to wrangle the memory from the depths of his mind. There were a lot tucked away in there that involved Alex and he made a special effort to keep them deep down so it took him a few seconds to grab the right one. His eyes widened in surprise when he found it.

"What?! Him? No way!"

Sam laughed again. "Yep. How many hunters do you think there are with mustangs and dogs?"

"But he couldn't be…"

"He has to be. He's the hunter Alex fell for but it turned out he had a thing for Josh instead."

Dean didn't look convinced. "Nope," he said definitively. "No way that guy's gay."

Sam rolled his eyes, growing impatient. "Why, because he drives a cool car? Not all gay guys talk with a lisp and run like Richard Simmons you know!"

Dean glared at his younger brother. "I know that," he said indignantly. "What do you take me for? I meant there's no way that guy's gay 'cause he didn't check me out once."

Sam snorted but gave up the argument. He'd never figure his brother out.

_**SPN-SPN-SPN**_

_**May 2009**_ _**(a week before Josh got out of jail)...**_

Bobby didn't sleep well the night he returned from Utah. The revelations that Ellen had been widowed by Alex's Red-Eyed stalker and that John Winchester himself had taken a crack at it and failed did not resonate well with the older hunter. He had been trying to find all the information he could, determined to find a way to kill it before Alex's brother got out of jail and the two headed off on their own again, but he wasn't making much headway. Hopefully the intel Ellen was going to send over in the morning would help. Sleep finally overcame him around dawn and he remained oblivious until almost noon. He wasn't as young as he used to be and these late nights were getting more and more draining.

When he did finally wake up, Alex was nowhere to be found. The Bronco was gone so he figured she had run into town. She was limited as to what stores and gas stations she could frequent because she had to avoid any with security cameras so she rarely stayed gone very long. Bobby perused the fridge and surprisingly settled on throwing together a chef's salad for his lunch.

His houseguest hadn't returned by suppertime. He was starting to get a little worried, wondering when exactly he had become such a friggin' mother hen, when he received a text.

_'B – goin dancing at club tonite w/ McLovin – don't wait up. -L'_

Something about the message didn't sit well with Bobby but he shrugged it off. He wasn't her father or her keeper and, if truth be told, she was a heck of a lot less likely to find trouble than the Winchester brothers were when they hung around for any length of time. By 'club' he assumed she meant the seedy country bar in town and by 'dancing' he figured she meant drinking, but young-uns all needed a little company their age from time to time. Bobby hardly counted Dave the delivery boy (or McLovin, as Lex called him for a reason that completely escaped the movie-ignorant older hunter) as company, but he supposed it could be worse. Hell, she could be out with the likes of Dean Winchester. Plenty of them in town.

She had said don't wait up but he did anyway, leaving a book open on the table so he could pretend to be doing research if she came in. By three a.m., she still wasn't back.

_**SPN-SPN-SPN**_

_**June 2009**_

Josh and Colby were already back at the motel by the time the Winchesters pulled up. In fact, they were in the Winchester's room... playing Guitar Hero.

They were standing in front of the TV with the volume cranked and Metallica's _Whiplash_ blaring. The dog was curled up right in the middle of Sam's bed, her head resting on her owner's jacket.

"What the Hell?" Dean gave the duo a surprised look as he stepped through the door with Sam's arm swung over his shoulder for support as the taller man limped his way in behind his brother.

Josh gave him a sheepish grin. "Hey guys," he held up his controller. "Check it out. A present from Lexie. She left it for me in the Bronco." He then noticed the blood all over Dean's clothes and Sam's bloody pant leg. "Oh crap, you guys alright?"

"Yeah, it's nothing," Sam insisted, releasing Dean and hobbling his way to the washroom.

"I take it you found Ivan?" Josh asked, tossing the plastic guitar aside and turning the music down. "Why didn't you call? We got squat."

"Nope," Dean sighed, dropping his keys on the table and sinking into one of the cheap plastic chairs. He explained what had gone down at the shoe factory, tactfully omitting the reason behind Ivan's superstrength.

"Can't your angel get a line on Ivan?" Colby asked.

"Okay, for starters, he's not _my_ angel," Dean declared uncomfortably.

"It was you he pulled out of Hell," Josh argued.

"Yeah well…hey, how did you know about that?"

"Cole here filled me in on the whole story with Lillith breaking seals trying to release Lucifer from some underworld prison and bring on the Apocalypse. By the way, kinda pissed that you two decided I hadn't earned my hunter's stripes yet enough to tell me that part. It didn't occur to you that the freakin' Apocalypse - as in the Four Horsemen, everybody _dies_ biblical Apocalypse - just might affect me too?" He gave Dean a hard stare before continuing. "Cole also mentioned some of the stories he's heard about you two. That you, uh…well that you died and that an angel brought you back because you're needed to help stop Lillith." Josh didn't see any need to repeat that Dean had gone to Hell. He was sure the hunter was vividly aware of that fact and probably preferred not to be reminded of it.

Dean was silent for a moment, shooting his brother a worried glance as he emerged from the bathroom. "How the Hell do you know all this stuff?" he demanded of Colby, a stern tone in his voice. "And how many other hunters know about it?" He and Sam had been under the impression it had been a pretty short list of people in the know. Short as in Bobby.

Shelby raised her head and perked her ears at the sharp tone of Dean's voice. Colby shrugged. "Most hunters only know bits and pieces, rumours and hearsay. I found out more than most from a hunter in Canaan, Vermont. Rufus Turner. He knew my dad and he keeps in touch."

"How does Rufus know all this?" Sam asked, wondering what else Rufus, a hunter Dean had met briefly a few weeks before his contract was up, knew about the Winchesters.

"Rufus 'knows things'," Dean answered for him, repeating the line the old hunter himself had used on him and mimicking Rufus's deep voice. "Rufus knows a lotta things, about a lotta people."

"Yep, that pretty much sums it up," Colby agreed with an amused nod. "He's as antisocial as they come so y'all don't have to worry about him tellin' too many others what he knows. Though some hunters ain't your biggest fans on account of the Devil's Gate bein' opened a couple years back."

"We didn't open it!" Dean defended. "We were just there."

"Don't really make a difference to some. There's a lot of stories goin' around about Sam too," the Texan added bluntly. "Some ain't too pleased he's still breathin'."

"And where do you stand on that one?" Dean didn't budge from his chair but his threatening tone alone somehow seemed to invisibly move him defensively in front of his brother.

A low growl escaped the furry lump on the bed, her lips curling slightly upwards. Colby reached over and scratched behind her ear to settle her down. "Well, way Rufus sees it, you two are our only chance of stopping the Apocalypse so I'm on your side. Besides," he jerked his thumb towards Josh, "the Mentalist here says you're cool so that's good enough for me."

Dean relaxed slightly.

"So this angel that you talk to," Colby ventured. "What's it like?"

"Annoying," Dean answered, though his smile betrayed his growing fondness for Cas. "No sense of humour."

"Must be nice to know an angel's got your back, though."

A snort escaped the elder Winchester. "Don't believe the hype."

"What does yours…I mean the one that talks to you…what does it look like? Does it have wings?"

Dean out and out laughed. "When they're on earth they possess people, dude. They call them vessels. Devout, religious types who pray for the chance to serve God or some such hooey. But most angels are dicks. Trust me, you wouldn't like them. Cas is different though," he added, smiling as a thought crossed his mind. "In fact, he's a total pretty boy, so maybe you would like him," he grinned with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

Sam's eyes widened at Dean's lack of tact. "Dean!" he scolded, embarrassed.

Colby laughed. "Don't worry about it, man," he dismissed. "I haven't been in the closet for a long time."

"You know, if you ever decide to come back to our side, my sister's still available," Josh threw in with a pointed look at Dean.

Colby pulled an apologetic look onto his face, misunderstanding Josh's dig. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that," he told the elder Brenton. "I was young. Confused."

Josh remembered how hurt his sister had been when Colby had pulled a one-eighty on her six years ago and he couldn't let it go immediately. "So was she," he pointed out.

Sam and Dean stayed out of the conversation, pretending not to be too interested but listening with avid curiosity. Colby looked genuinely sorry. "I shouldn't have rabbited. I came back a week or so later," he defended, "but y'all were gone."

"Red-eyes showed up. We had to split."

"Oh. Sorry about that too. I shoulda been there to end that son of a bitch."

Josh waved a hand in the air. "Nah," he said, dismissively. "Probably better that you weren't. What you had planned didn't work and if you'd been there, you'd probably be dead." He fidgeted for a moment, not sure how this subject had been brought up, especially in the company of the Winchesters. "And I'm sorry too, man," he added. "I could have handled things better." He winced at the memory of him and Colby playing cards at the table when suddenly the idiot had tried to kiss him. He had jumped so far back he'd knocked himself and his chair over, scrambling to his feet with a loud '_What the fuck!_'

"Not one of my finer moments," Josh admitted apologetically.

"Water under the bridge," Colby agreed good-naturedly.

Dean couldn't keep the smile from his face as he noticed the reddish tinge creeping into Josh's face. Mr. Share'n'Care was actually blushing. It was Sam, naturally, that ended Dean's fun and rescued Josh from further embarrassment.

"Okay, what's our next move?" he asked. "We need to stop the ritual."

Josh gladly got back to business. "Well, looks like trailing the vamps is out. The demons have the one we need. Think we can find any of the other monsters?"

Colby shook his head. "The shritga and the wolf could be anywhere."

"Isn't there a chance we can find the ghoul in a graveyard?" Josh offered.

The elder Winchester shook his head. "I checked and there are over fifteen cemeteries in the city alone, never mind the surrounding areas. So even if Lillith's letting them out to eat, that's a real long shot. Besides, we don't even know that it's a ghoul. We killed the ghoul that got Kim but their back-up could have been some other sort of monster that takes memories."

"What about the witches then?" Sam asked. "If we don't have any leads on the monsters in the ritual, maybe we can get a lead on the ritual itself."

"They're all dead," Dean reminded him.

"But their supplier ain't," Colby interjected, a lightbulb-over-the-head kind of look on his face. Three confused and questioning looks were thrown his way.

"Spells ain't just chants," he explained. "They need supplies. Strange stuff you ain't likely to find at WalMart. This is a pretty powerful spell so I'm guessin' they'll need some high-end shit."

"Right," Sam thought out loud. "If we know where they shop, we could find out what they bought. That might give us a clue about the ritual."

"I have a pretty good idea where they shopped," Colby announced, shooing the dog off his jacket and ignoring the annoyed look Sam threw his way when the beast jumped up on all fours, still standing in the middle of his bed wagging her tail furiously.

"That's right," Josh remembered. "You spent a lot of time in Denver growing up."

Colby smiled. "Yep. And there's one major go-to guy for all things supernatural in Colorado."

"An eye of newt vendor?" Dean joked, changing out of his bloody overshirt quickly. "Let's go."

"That'd be one of the nicer items this guy can get for you. Try doves drowned in fetus blood or Rawhead feces."

"Ew. Me and this guy are so _not_ gonna get along," Dean groaned.

_**SPN-SPN-SPN**_

_**May 2009**_

Alex had knocked back a few drinks. Not enough to get her drunk, but a couple more than she usually allowed herself. McLovin had proudly produced his fake ID – _Nigel Tufnel_ - to get in the bar door and had then proceeded to talk in great length about the 'hippest gangsta ever born', the guy who had made the Arkansas driver's license for him. Namely one Dean Winchester. Alex hadn't wanted to talk about hunters, especially that particular one. She just wanted to get on the dance floor, feel the music, maybe forget about monsters, widows, her absent brother, hunters, and all things supernatural for a night.

That had been the plan. Plans are easier made than kept.

The bar was busy; busier than she had expected for a small town on a Thursday, and before long she found herself roped into helping McLovin sweet talk his high school crush by feeding him lines to use on her. They were all lines her brother would have used, but they just didn't deliver the same coming from the nerdy guy in the sweatervest and glasses. Surprisingly though, it seemed to be working and the game proved to be amusing so she kept it up until McLovin got up the courage to offer the girl a drive home. Good for him, she thought, but realized that left her alone, fending off the unwanted and increasingly aggressive advances of Hal Jinney, a well-known but not well-liked local bar regular.

At three-thirty a.m., Bobby was reaching for his thick fleece plaid shirt and his car keys. He made it as far as his porch, however, before he stopped at the sight of the police car coming in through his gate. _Crap. This couldn't be good._

He recognized the cruiser as that of the local soon-to-retire sheriff, Barry Peyton. It pulled up at the base of his steps and Bobby was relieved to see Alex getting out on the front passenger side. She appeared to be unhurt. Peyton got out also, nodding a silent greeting to the mechanic standing on his porch.

"Take care, Alex," he called to the blonde as she climbed the steps towards a scowling Bobby.

"Thanks Sheriff," she replied solemnly, giving Bobby an apologetic look as she passed him and headed inside.

Bobby turned to Peyton, who had been a friend of his since before Karen had died thirty years ago. "What happened?" he asked gruffly.

Peyton sighed, leaning back against his car with his arms crossed. "Well I got a call to Grady's Rodeo Lounge on account of a nasty fight. Apparently Hal Jinney took a liking to your niece there, she didn't return the sentiment, and things got ugly."

Bobby's fists clenched at his sides and he gritted his teeth. He knew Hal, a mean, violent sonofabitch. "I'm gonna kill that bastard," he seethed, fighting the urge to get in his truck now and go do just that. Hadn't the girl been through enough? "Okay, maybe not kill him," he added hastily, realizing he was talking to law enforcement, "But I'm gonna bust him up some."

"Don't worry," the Sheriff laughed. "Your niece already beat you to it."

Bobby narrowed his eyes, his way of demanding an explanation.

"She's the one who started swinging," Peyton informed him. "Poor Hal never had a chance." He gave Bobby a disapproving look. "Seems to run in your family, Singer," he frowned. "I remember one of your nephews taking out a few locals over a game of pool when he was just a teen. Dan, was it? Dean?"

"Uh, yeah," Bobby mumbled, still surprised at the news. Hal Jinney was a big guy who'd seen his share of barfights and usually came out on top. "It's the young-uns on my mother's side," he joked in a halfhearted attempt to play along. "All crazier 'n batshit with tempers to boot."

Peyton moved to get back in his squad car. "Well, I'm pretty sure I can convince Hal not to press any charges," he said. "He'll want to keep this as quiet as he can, especially with the mess she made of his nose." The Sheriff didn't suppress a smirk at the mention of Hal's apparent disfigurement. "Just maybe keep her outta town for a few days, huh?"

"Yeah, I'll do that," growled Bobby, still planning on having his own words with Mr. Jinney sometime in the near future. He waved good-bye to his old friend and turned to head back inside, hoping Alex was okay and wondering for the umpteenth time how he had let Dean rope him into this gig.

She was inside, pouring herself a large glass of water from the sink. He hadn't realized he was still scowling when he came into the kitchen but he must have been because when she saw his face she swallowed hard and averted her eyes before apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," she blurted. "I know I screwed up, I didn't mean for the cops to get involved. I never meant to put you in their radar. But he insisted on driving me home and I didn't have any other address to give him. I'm sorry."

Bobby was taken aback. "I ain't mad at you for that," he assured her. "Peyton and I go way back. He knows about huntin' – enough to turn a blind eye, anyway. How'd ya think I manage to get away with all the strange goin's-on round here?"

"Oh." She fidgeted. "Well you look mad."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "I am," he admitted, still riled up. "And I'm gonna pay that Hal Jinney a visit in the mornin', that's for sure. I mean, what were you thinkin' Lex? He's a cold, hard bastard. He wouldn't think twice about beating the shit out of a girl! Peyton says you even started it."

Alex abruptly lost her apologetic look and for the first time since her arrival, Bobby heard her raise her voice.

"Hal?! You think I'm scared of Hal?!" she shouted angrily. "Look, thanks for all you've done for me Bobby, but you're not my keeper! I can handle the likes of Hal. Trust me, I've handled worse than him before and yes! I took the first swing. He was being threatening and I don't have to put up with that crap! I wasn't gonna let him scare me! I didn't want to be the victim anymore! I'm just... so goddamn tired of being the victim."

Bobby stood dumbfounded as her voice wavered slightly at the end of her rant. He noticed her fists were clenched and she was clearly fighting back tears. She turned away for a few seconds, breathing deeply and leaning one hand on the kitchen table. When she looked back she spoke quietly.

"I want to stop running. I want to kill the bastard."

Bobby didn't need to ask to figure out she wasn't talking about Hal Jinney anymore.

"I want to kill him but I need your help," she said, sounding defeated. "I've read pretty much all your books but I can't find anything that could be him." Her voice was almost pleading now. "There has to be a way to kill him, Bobby."

Bobby cursed himself for being insensitive, blaming it on too many years of dealing with Winchesters. He had noticed her spending hours in his library and carting piles of his supernatural books up and down the stairs to and from the panic room, he just hadn't realized there had been a specific purpose behind her avid research.

His eyes softened and he took a deep breath before heading over to the fireplace. He pulled a stone out of the mantelpiece and stuck his hand in the hole, bringing out a flash drive and laying it on the table next to his laptop. She never moved but watched him curiously as he opened a kitchen cupboard and leaned in to remove the false back panel, revealing a secret compartment from which he pulled a manila folder with the title 'Brenton, A.' and the Oceanview Psychiatric Facility logo on the front. He placed it on the table also and pulled out a chair for her.

"I wasn't sure if you were ready to see this," he said gently, "But I think maybe it was wrong of me to keep it from you."

_**SPN-SPN-SPN**_

_**TBC...**_

_Next up: Bobby and Alex start their hunt for Red-Eyes and it probably goes without saying those 4 guys together are gonna find trouble – but this time it's a whole different sort of trouble... (a chapter I had a lot of fun writing, btw)..._


	12. Pretty, Ain't He?

**Chapter 12**** – Pretty, Ain't He?**

Cas had his eyes closed, his mind in peaceful meditation as he waited for word from his superiors. He was aware of the presence next to him on the empty park bench as soon as it appeared but didn't acknowledge it right away.

"_Come now, Castiel, are you ignoring me?" _Miniel's voice sounded in his head. "_Isn't that rather childish?"_

Cas sighed and pursed his lips as he turned to face the luminous form next to him. "I wasn't ignoring you," he huffed. "I am trying to seek revelation."

"_Let me guess, the upper ranks are not being overly forthcoming with His wishes."_

The angel in human form narrowed his eyes. "That sounded dangerously close to criticism, Miniel. I thought you had restored your faith in our Father and our brothers."

"_I never lost faith in our Father_," Miniel answered with the silent equivalent of a shrug. His failure to include their brothers in that statement was not lost on Castiel. "_And I will never disobey an order again, Cas."_

Cas let Jimmy's face show his surprise at the use of the nickname Dean had bestowed upon him. Of the angels, only Anna had taken to using it, her years of actually being a full-fledged human clearly influencing her ways of addressing her heavenly brothers and sisters. Cas would be hesitant to admit it, but he rather liked the shortened moniker.

A thought suddenly occurred to him and he studied his old comrade for a moment, contemplating the wisdom of voicing the accusation in his mind. He decided to do so.

"You have seen Anna," he said slowly, not phrasing it as a question.

Miniel did not outright deny that he had made contact with the fugitive angel, but instead turned the tables on Castiel. "_I believe you are the one who has been speaking to our former leader,_" he voiced.

Cas frowned. "She saved my life," he defended. "Uriel had turned against us and our Father. He was killing angels."

"_I heard,"_ Miniel said gravely. "_He would have had Lucifer rise again to his former glory._"

"Glory?" Cas's voice deepened and his shoulders stiffened. "Our brother was far from glorious."

Miniel's glow intensified slightly in response. "_He was wrong and he was blind to the beauty of our father's greatest creation_," he said, "_But one cannot deny he was breathtakingly beautiful. I only wish he could have understood humans as we do, Castiel. It was his downfall and surely will be again._"

Cas relaxed somewhat. Miniel was one angel he could be sure would never share Lucifer's hatred for mankind. He returned to his former line of questioning. "Anna said she called in an old favour to be given the likeness of her human body," he said flatly. "That is something you are capable of doing."

Miniel stayed silent for a few seconds. When he did answer, his voice inside Cas's head was hushed, spoken as if someone was listening and he didn't want to be overheard. "_When I was disgraced_," he said slowly, "_I could have been given death as a punishment. After all, I had disobeyed. Anna spoke up for me. She was the only one who defended my mistake and begged for leniency on my behalf. Giving her a human girl's body seemed like a small favour in return for my life._"

"Do you think…" Cas started to ask but hesitated, unsure.

"_What, brother?_"

"Do you think the orders we receive are indeed coming from our Father?"

Miniel's luminescence shimmered, dimming ever so slightly as Cas posed the borderline mutinous question. "_I don't know_," he whispered in Cas's head. "_But this time I will obey them. As should you."_

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

The Impala pulled up next to Colby's Mustang right in front of the bar and the Winchesters stepped out with the usual double creak of the classic's doors. Josh stood at the foot of the steps and grimaced at the long line of tweaked and polished Harley's outside the place.

"What, you don't like bikes?" Dean joked, coming around to stand next to the blond man while Sam dug through the trunk for some appropriate weaponry. Dean, naturally, was already packing.

"Nah, it's just I didn't realize this was a biker bar. I seem to rub these guys the wrong way. They're a bitch to get any information out of."

Dean grinned, not doubting in the least that hard core bikers that rode the likes of the bad-ass beasts lined up outside this place probably wouldn't be very accepting of Josh's pretty-boy surfer look. In fact, they'd probably beat the crap out of guys like him for Sunday sport.

"I wish we had my sister here," Josh continued, folding his arms across his chest with a grin. "We could just throw a short skirt on her, send her in, and get whatever information we needed."

Dean raised his eyebrow but it was Sam that voiced his disapproval as he slammed the trunk shut and walked over to join them. "Dude, you pimp out your sister for intel?"

"Oh please, like you haven't flirted for information before! Dean does it all the time. It's the same thing," Josh defended. "I back her up."

Colby strolled past them and up the stairs of the bar to the well-lit porch, shaking his head. He had discarded the duster but still wore his cowboy hat and didn't seem too worried about wearing it into a biker bar. "You sister may be drop dead gorgeous, Jawsh," he grinned back at them, "but even her charms wouldn't hold much sway with this crowd."

Not sure yet what he meant by that, they followed him up the stairs where 'I _Wanna Know What Love Is_' by Foreigner was drifting out through the wooden doors. They stepped inside and stopped for a moment while their eyes adjusted to the dim light.

The bar was fairly busy and reeked of beer. Heavily tattooed patrons clad in mostly leather or denim sat around the barstools and milled about the pool tables. At first glance it seemed like many bars Sam and Dean had frequented over the years during their endless travels. That was, until Dean noticed a severe lack of women around. His eyes moved to the dance floor and practically bulged out of their sockets when they took in the many couples slow-dancing to the classic rock ballad. All-male couples.

"Holy crap! It's the Blue Oyster Bar!" he exclaimed, getting a muffled laugh from Josh, a warning glare from Colby, and a "What's the Blue Oyster Bar?" query from Sam, who had been too young to share his brother's childhood fascination with the Police Academy movies.

"Let's keep the gay jokes to ourselves, fellas," Colby scolded in a hushed voice. "Just play it cool." He looked over at Josh. "Don't worry, I'll tell them you're with me, Dawg," he winked before glancing back and frowning at the Winchesters. "Maybe you should hold your brother's hand," he said to Dean, his serious expression removing any doubt that it was indeed a genuine suggestion.

Dean looked at Sam, an apprehensive and uncomfortable look on his face.

"Don't even think about it!" Sam snapped, jerking his hand up towards his chest just in case his Dean got any ideas. He should have known that would never be the case for two seconds later, Dean's dumbfounded expression turned into a very amused smile as he took another look around the place.

They headed over to an empty table where Colby left them to go ask around to see if he could get a lead on the witches' supplier. "Just stay put," he warned, giving Dean in particular a stern look before wandering off towards a group of rather rugged-looking men at another table.

The three hunters did just that, hunkering down on their stools and trying way too hard not to look uncomfortable.

"Ah!" Dean said finally, tapping Josh's knee and pointing to the far corner where two attractive women were standing against the wall, beers in hand. "Now that's more my scene."

Sam laughed. "There's no room for you with those two, Dean."

Dean looked back to see the two women lean into each other and start making out. "Oh, I am so in there," he said, hopping off the stool and heading eagerly across the bar.

Josh rolled his eyes. "Even I know that ain't happening," he grinned.

Colby came back over, sliding into Dean's empty stool next to Sam. "Man we're lookin' for is Christopher Adams. He usually comes in around nine so we got a half hour to kill. You boys wanna head out and come back later?"

Josh gave Sam a subtle look that said _'H__ell yes!'_ but clapped Colby on the shoulder. "Nah, we're fine here. We can stick around," he assured his old friend. "I'm gonna go get us some beers." He stood up and sauntered off towards the bar.

"Where's your brother?" Colby asked the remaining Winchester.

Sam pointed and Colby turned just as Dean made his way back to their table, rubbing his left cheek.

Dean slumped heavily onto the empty stool. "Well, that was a bust," he griped.

Sam tried unsuccessfully to hide his 'I told you so' chuckle. His smile, however, disappeared quickly when he turned in his seat and his hand brushed the pocket with his flask in it. _The flask that usually contained Ruby's blood._ A strong and sudden feeling of need came over him and he immediately started repeating over and over in his head that Ivan's injury must still be affecting him, not sure why he needed to convince himself of that fact. Dean and Colby were still talking but their conversation became a blur of voices in the background. He could hear his own heart beating loudly and it seemed to echo in his skull at an incredibly slow rate.

Sam stood up quickly, bringing his eyes sharply back to focus on the quizzical look Dean was giving him. "I, uh, I gotta use the can," he lied calmly and convincingly and strode off towards the back of the bar.

Dean chuckled, mistaking Sam's tense posture and stiff shoulders as discomfort of their surroundings. He turned back to Colby, who he noticed kept stealing glances over at the bar. Dean followed the younger hunter's gaze to see Josh, laughing amicably at the bartender as he waited for his drinks.

"Put your tongue back in, Texas," Dean quipped. "You're practically drooling."

Colby threw him a sheepish grin. "That obvious, huh?"

Dean leaned his elbows back on the table edge and looked thoughtfully over at Josh.

He snickered, "I'm not even sure that qualifies as gay."

Colby laughed. "So he's in touch with his feelings more than most men," he defended.

"He's in touch with his feelings more than most _women_," Dean retorted, shaking his head. "I don't get it," he teased. "You could have had Lex and you want that instead? Are you insane? Have you _seen_ Lex?"

Colby raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Way I hear it, you coulda had the curvier Brenton yourself there, Slick. Why you lettin' one little mistake get in the way?"

Dean let out a snort but his jaw muscle tightened slightly, a sign of discomfort only his brother would have noticed had he been there. "You call what I did a mistake?" he answered in a quieter voice while keeping his eyes averted, pretending to take in the pool game going on at a nearby table.

"I dunno. A huntin' accident wasn't it? These things happen."

Dean turned sharply towards Colby, his brow furrowed in surprise. "What did Josh tell you?" he demanded.

Colby shrugged. "That you made a mistake and Lexie paid the price. I assumed huntin' accident. He said you felt guilty about it and that's why you're goin' along with this cockamamie plan of hers to go off on her own." He appeared to study the older hunter for a moment before narrowing his eyes accusingly. "So what really happened then?"

Dean was surprised Josh had played down what the Winchesters had done to Alex. If it had been the other way around and the Brentons had done the same to Sam, he would have beaten Josh to a bloody pulp by now. "Long story," he answered, deciding to change the subject since Surfer Boy was making his way back over with four beers in his hands. "Hey, Texas, you any good at pool?"

"Of course," Colby scoffed.

Dean's eyes lit up. "You up for a hustle?"

Colby shook his head, giving Josh a quick nod of acknowledgement as the blond man handed him a beer. "You can't hustle pool in here, Dean," he said sternly. "This ain't no drag queen karaoke dance club. These guys are seriously tough. Most of them are hunters and those that don't kill the supernatural, probably still kill somethin'. They won't take kindly to a…a…well, a guy who looks like you hustling them."

"Hunters?" That statement caught Dean's attention and his eyes immediately scanned the bar in search of Sam. "These guys are hunters?"

Colby nodded. "A lot of 'em. But, don't worry dawg, they don't know who you and your brother are."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam pushed open the swinging bathroom door with a little more force than he had intended, almost hitting an older guy who was on his way out.

"Sorry," he said quickly, throwing the man a tight-lipped smile that never even came close to reaching his eyes. He got a sharp glare in return but ignored it as he strode past him and quickly shut himself in the farthest stall from the door. He leaned his hand against the back of the stall door and slumped his forehead down on his bicep for a few seconds with his eyes closed. He breathed out a long, frustrated sigh and fumbled around in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and hit redial, grinding his teeth as he suffered through the seemingly endless rings.

"_Leave a message_."

"Goddamnit Ruby!" he spat into the phone. "I've left you three already. Call me!"

He snapped the phone shut and shoved it angrily back into his pocket, feeling the bulk of the flask in there as he did so. His fingers curled around the cool, hard object wistfully and he stood unmoving with his head down and eyes closed for a full minute, breathing deeply.

Finally he pulled the flask out, turning it slowly over in his hands as he stood alone in the stall. It was dead man's blood. Not demon blood. But maybe, just maybe…

He slammed his fist into the tiled wall, hating himself for the thoughts that were going through his mind. But that hatred wasn't stopping him. He couldn't believe what his fingers were doing as he watched them unscrew the cap of the flask. He stood and stared at the round, dark, open hole for a few seconds before he found himself tilting it up just enough to leak a few drops onto his index and middle fingers. He brought the red tips up to his nose, giving them a distasteful sniff before closing his eyes in shame as he pressed them to his tongue.

Nothing. It tasted disgusting, sickening even. And he felt nothing. No familiar rush, no increased senses or heightened awareness of his surroundings. No power, no strength, no fearlessness. Instead he felt only shame. He fought back tears as he screwed the cap back on the flask and shoved it hastily back into his pocket, slumping down on the toilet seat and burying his face into his hands.

_Where the Hell was Ruby?_

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**May 2009**__** (a week before Josh got out of jail)...**_

Alex sat in stony silence as she watched the video clip of her younger self in her Uncle's hospital jamming her own arm in the hinge of the bed. She had watched all of the security footage clips her uncle had given Sam, replaying them over and over again, still shocked into forgetting to breathe each time she watched.

"That's not what happened," she whispered.

"We know that now," Bobby's voice sounded gently from behind her, snapping her focus back from the real memory she had of hurting her arm that day. A memory that consisted of Red-Eyes snapping her elbow back and twisting it cruelly, his claws piercing the skin and drawing blood as he squeezed every ounce of pain he could out of the maneuver.

Bobby reached forward and clicked the media player closed in an effort to dissuade her from watching the creepy scene again. He had started out by letting her listen to the 9-1-1 recording from Detroit that Red-Eyes had made in her voice after things had gone badly with Isaac and Tamara, then had worked his way up to the videos. "We already told you he can monitor video feeds and phone transmissions," he explained. "It seems he can manipulate them too."

"How?"

"Honestly, I dunno. He's not the only supernatural being that can do it, although he's definitely the most sophisticated I've ever come across. Crocatas can do it, as can some poltergeists on a more basic, static-sorta level."

"What about the guy from the convenience store robbery?" Alex asked him. "He saw Red-Eyes. I told Dean about that."

Bobby realized with a start she was still trying to understand how he and the Winchesters had come to the mistaken conclusion that her monster was all in her head. He bit his lip and hesitated for a second – he hadn't really wanted to get into this part of it all.

When Sam had first brought his suspicions about Red-Eyes not being real to Bobby's attention, the two of them had combed every piece of evidence they had, making phone calls and online searches well into the night to dig up whatever else they could. They had not reached the conclusion she was crazy lightly and without exhaustive efforts.

Dennison's private notes in Alex's file mentioned that when she was fifteen, the girl had been caught in the middle of the armed robbery of a convenience store. She had claimed at the time that when the two men had grabbed her as a hostage and were making their getaway, her shadowy monster had shown up in the alley behind the store and violently killed the young man who had been holding the gun on her. His accomplice had been charged with the murder.

"Uh, he pled guilty in court," Bobby explained. "Had a low-rate public defender and got himself twenty-five years."

"Why would he plead guilty?" Alex had a pained expression on her face. "I would have corroborated his story."

Bobby grimaced. "Well," he continued, "since we found out your Red-Eyes is real, I started wondering the same thing and I've been digging a little deeper. It seems your family was sorta well-to-do."

"Yeah, you could say that," Alex admitted, still not sure what her family's wealth would have to do with anything.

"It seems your Daddy had some pull with judges and the like and between him and your uncle, they got a ruling preventing you from having to testify. The guy would have never won if it had gone to trial. I'm guessing his lawyer told him as much and he pled guilty to get a lower sentence."

"What?" Alex's eyes widened as she started to put two and two together.

The mechanic shrugged. "They were just looking out for you."

"You're telling me this guy has another seventeen or so years to go when all he did was rob a store?"

Bobby raised a disapproving eyebrow at her compassion for the thug. "He held a gun to a fifteen year old girl," he pointed out, hoping she would drop the subject.

"No he didn't," she said adamantly. "His friend did. And trust me, his friend paid for it. Red-Eyes tore him to pieces." She looked guiltily at Bobby. "It's my fault he's still in jail. I never even asked my parents what happened to him." She had preferred not to think about that afternoon at all. It had only been the second time she had witnessed a violent, bloody death and had had nightmares for weeks.

A look of determination crossed her face. "What can I do to get him out of there?" she asked, thinking if anyone could figure something out, it would be crafty ol' Bobby.

Bobby winced. "M'fraid that ain't gonna be possible, Lex," he informed her solemnly. "He got on the wrong end of a shank two years ago in the prison yard. He's dead."

Dean had mentioned to Bobby that Alex held a lot of guilt over her parents and the other hunter being killed by Red-Eyes in retaliation for her attempts to kill him, but until he saw her face at that moment he hadn't guessed just how much. He didn't share her sentiment that the store-robbing punk deserved any more than he had received, but the man's fate had clearly hit a nerve.

She turned wordlessly back to the laptop, clicking open the media player again and watching one of the videos for the fourth time. Bobby remained silent behind her, struggling to find something comforting to say but came up with nothing. When it was over, she turned towards him.

"I gotta admit, it's all pretty convincing," she said quietly, sounding defeated. "No wonder he…" She cut herself off, looking away quickly.

Bobby was certainly intuitive and had no trouble guessing she had been referring to Dean. So far, they had managed to avoid the topic of the elder Winchester almost entirely. "You know," he defended softly, "he's really tearing himself up over what happened. He dropped everything to get you out the second he found out he was wrong. No, _WE_ were wrong," he corrected. "It wasn't just Dean. People make mistakes, kiddo."

"I know, Bobby. Logically, I know he meant well. Heck, after seeing all this stuff, I can understand how bad it looked. But that doesn't make it hurt any less every time I think about that day. I just can't erase that feeling. My whole life people have thought I was crazy. But not hunters. Never a hunter." Her eyes locked back on Bobby's soft brown ones. "And why couldn't you guys just tell me? Why the ambush?"

The older hunter had known he was going to have to face up to these questions at some point. Actually, he had expected it far sooner. He breathed a sigh of resignation before answering. "We were pretty sure we were right," he shrugged. "And we knew there would be no convincing you. In all honesty, would you have agreed to turn yourself in? Would you have ever gone peacefully?"

Alex shook her head. No matter what evidence they had shown her, she never would have believed Red-Eyes was a delusion. He had been far too painfully real to her for twenty years.

"Well, Dean wasn't too keen on wrestling you in himself and Sam and I didn't want to put him through that so we convinced him this would be the best way." Bobby felt a need to defend Dean. "Dennison insisted it would be quick and easy," he added, throwing her an apologetic look. "From what I hear, it didn't turn out that way and for that, I'm sorry kiddo. We really thought your uncle was right."

Alex looked back at the stilled last frame of the video on Bobby's laptop. "How do you know he's not?" she asked. "What made you realize I'm not crazy?"

Bobby perked up, a sly grin spreading across his face under his beard. "Well, we have it on very good authority that Red-Eyes is real. A friend of the boys saw him in a…a vision of sorts."

"A psychic?" Alex wrinkled her nose. "How do you know it's not just some crackpot?"

Bobby chuckled. "From what I hear, he may very well be a crackpot, but his visions are very real and accurate as Hell. They come from the highest possible source." He pointed upwards. "You see, Chuck is a Prophet of the Lord."

Alex gave him a blank look. "Say what?"

"He's a bonified Prophet. The next Luke. He dreams whatever Sam and Dean are going to do and writes it down and it all happens, word for word. Those Winchester boys are pretty important in all this Apocalypse crap and he's apparently writing the Winchester Gospel."

There was a brief silence. "Seriously?" Alex grinned, thinking Bobby must be making this up. "The Winchester Gospel?"

Bobby shrugged. "It's the truth, I swear."

Alex took another moment to let it all sink in. When she spoke again, she was no longer smiling and looked genuinely confused.

"So this guy sees Sam and Dean in his visions," she said slowly. "Well, Red-Eyes has never been around when Sam and Dean were there so howcome he saw him or me? God wouldn't care about me, why would he bother showing that to Chuck?"

Bobby frowned, deciding he would have to address the 'God wouldn't care about me' crap at some point. "I got a couple of theories on that one. First, maybe God does care about you." He gave her a pointed stare but could tell from her scornful look that she wasn't going to be convinced of that anytime soon. Twenty years of being hunted and hurt would take more than one conversation to erase. He sighed and continued. "Or maybe it's because the angels have plans for Dean and need his head to be in the game. If Red-Eyes had killed you, he would have been chewed up with guilt and that wouldn't have worked out so well for their master plan." He shrugged. "Maybe they showed Chuck so he'd tell Dean. Stop you from getting killed."

Alex thought about Bobby's words. She knew Dean well enough to know he would have felt remorse and some culpability had he indirectly caused her death. But she doubted it would have been enough to throw him off his mission to save the world and stop the Apocalypse.

That theory didn't hold a lot of water for another reason also. "Red-Eyes doesn't want to kill me," she pointed out. "That's why he made that 9-1-1 call in Detroit after he sliced my wrists in temper. That's why he killed that guy in the alley. He just wants me to feel pain but not to die."

Bobby sighed and pulled her patient file open, flipping through the pages until he found the ones he was after. He handed them to her, explaining as she read them. "I got some leads," he said. "It was actually your uncle that dug 'em up. He found four other patients that had the same condition as you." His eyes rolled at the word 'condition'. "Only the clueless bastard didn't stop to wonder why the delusions were all exactly the same."

Alex was reading as Bobby continued talking. The first page was a psychiatric case study on a Jennifer Mollender dated 1952.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 2009**_

It was now a quarter after nine and still no sign of Christopher Adams, the witches' supplier. The hunters were on their second round of beers, still keeping to themselves at their table and trying their best to ignore the glances and the occasional wink various patrons were sending their way. All four having the keen observation skills that came naturally to seasoned hunters, they were all aware of the acute interest a particularly large and gruff looking biker had been taking in the group and weren't all that surprised when he put down his pool cue and approached them.

He strolled up to them with a look on his face that mostly resembled nervousness, turning himself sideways to squeeze through the narrow space between two nearby tables. He walked up to Dean, who was standing with his elbow on the high table, leaning back and taking a casual sip of his beer. "Excuse me," the man said, looking down at Dean from a good six inch advantage in height.

Dean held his hand out in front of him, palm hovering inches from the man's barrel of a chest. "Keep movin' Pal," the hunter said sharply. "I ain't interested."

The man's eyes narrowed to angry slits as his shoulders stiffened in obvious offense to Dean's remark. "Don't flatter yourself," he snarled, "'cause I wasn't lookin' to talk to you." The heavily tattooed biker ignored the snort of a laugh Josh was unable to stifle from his seat across the table. "I was comin' to see if this guy would like to join me for a game of pool." He gestured past Dean to Sam, whose eyes widened in sudden, terrified discomfort as the man peered past his brother at him.

The guy gave Sam a hopeful smile before pulling back suddenly to address Dean again. "Uh, unless he's with you, that is," he retracted.

Dean's 'protect Sammy' instinct came in a far distant second to his sudden eagerness to see his brother squirm. "Nope," he grinned, stepping aside gallantly. "He's definitely not with me."

Sam threw his brother a traitorous look before giving the large man a quick, apprehensive smile. His flustered mind was still racing to come up with a polite way to let the guy down when Colby stepped in and rescued him.

"He's just come off a bad relationship, Briggs," Colby said, throwing a friendly arm out to block the biker's advance. "He ain't lookin' for company tonight."

Briggs threw Sam a questioning look. Sam gave him an apologetic shrug, deciding Colby was his new best friend.

"Yeah, alright Hutchins," Briggs conceded, giving Colby a respectful nod before heading back over to the pool table.

Josh's shoulders were still shaking with barely-contained laughter. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Sam sulked.

"Oh, I'm not laughing at you," Josh grinned. "I'm laughing at your brother getting shot down by both men and women in the same night."

Dean scoffed. "Hey, I could score in here if I wanted to," he insisted.

Josh's rebuttal was cut off by the approach of another man. Unlike Briggs, however, this guy was quite small. Every inch of his short, wiry torso that wasn't covered by the tight Harley Davidson muscle shirt was tattooed with every symbol of the occult imaginable. He stepped timidly up to the group, eyeing the three strangers suspiciously as he addressed Colby.

"Hutchins," he greeted with a nod of his head. "I hear you were looking for me."

Colby reached out and gave the guy a friendly handshake. "Hi Chris," he drawled. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, yeah," the man fidgeted, clearly not one for small talk. "What d'ya need?"

"Just some information. Word is you supplied a local witch coven."

Chris shrugged. "I supply a lot of people. Witches, psychics, hunters." He glanced at Colby's three colleagues in turn. "Your friends hunters too?"

"Yes, we are," Dean answered for them before steering the conversation back to the reason they were here. "This particular coven was five young girls. Julie, Ginny, Amber, Kim, and their leader Ella."

The guy directed his attention to Dean, giving him a long, nervous stare before answering. "Yeah, I supplied them. Why?"

"Sorry to break it to you but they're dead," Josh offered politely. "And we need to figure out what they were up to. What kind of spells they were working on."

Chris again paused, this time to give Josh a cautious once over. Evidently he decided the blond man was less intimidating than Dean, for he appeared to relax a little as he redirected his next answer at him. "They were pretty small-time. You know, fortune spells mostly. Ella was the only one I met. She used to come in here about once a week and order the basics."

"Nothing out of the ordinary?" Colby pressed.

"Well, there were a couple of specialty items recently. Just last week, actually, she picked up Scandinavian Dagga Weed. And a couple of weeks before that she asked for Crybroggia root but I couldn't get any," the supplier admitted with a shrug. "I told her she didn't want to be messing with that stuff but she may have kept looking. I just figured she'd made a mistake with what she needed for some little contest-rigging spell. That's some serious dark shit, Hutchins," he said to Colby with a warning tone.

"What are Dagga Weed and Crybroggia root used for?" Sam asked, his natural curiosity kicking in as well as his drive to find a lead on the ritual to raise Netiran.

Chris shrugged again. "This particular Dagga's used in demon-summoning and locating as well as some other things but always requires some kind of sacrifice to work... usually human. As for Crybroggia, I have no idea but I know it's powerful, hard-core stuff. Definitely not minor league." He folded his arms, shuffling his feet in a manner that suggested he would like to end this interrogation. "So, Ella's coven, they're all dead?" he asked quietly.

Colby nodded. "'Fraid so."

"Demons?"

"Yep."

"Well, you watch yourself, friend. I've been hearin' a lot of stories these days about demons. Some believe even angels are taking notice of them and are walking among us now. Bad days to be a hunter."

Colby gave him a nod of acknowledgement for the warning. "Bad days to be tangling with witches," he said in an equally disapproving tone.

"Yeah, well, at least I make an honest living," Chris retorted, giving the four hunters his first hint of a smile, even if it was a sarcastic one.

"So Ella never mentioned anything about a ritual she was planning on doing?" Sam interrupted, realizing they had gathered no really useful intel at this point.

Chris shook his head. "No. Sorry. She didn't talk much."

"Alright, thanks Chris," Colby slapped the small man on the shoulder. "If you think of anything else, give me a call, huh?"

"Yeah, I will. Nate still got your number?"

Colby nodded tersely.

"He know you're in town?" the small man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not yet," Colby shrugged, clearly ignoring the spark of interest that comment got from Dean and Josh. Chris gave them all a quick smile and wandered off.

Josh turned immediately to Colby with a grin. "You got a boyfriend, Cole?" he teased good-naturedly.

"Of course," Colby grinned back, unfazed. "Several."

Dean chuckled. "One in every town, dude," he said, nodding in approval. "That's the way to do it." His smile suddenly disappeared as he realized how that sounded and he shot an awkward glance at his brother and Josh. "But with chicks, of course."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Can we get going, guys?" he urged.

"What, you don't wanna stick around?" Dean teased. "I'm sure Briggs would love to buy you a beer."

Josh laughed. "Well, he definitely won't be buying _you_ one," he said to Dean.

Dean's laugh turned to a scowl. "I don't see you getting any offers, Dimples."

"Only 'cause I'm not looking for any."

"Yeah, well that crowd over there at that table," Dean tilted his head sideways towards a table of men playing poker, "has been checking me out all night."

Josh looked over at the small group. "Oh please," he scoffed. "They were trying to see past your raggedy ass to get a better look at me."

Colby held up his hands, silencing the escalating smack talk. "Are you guys seriously arguing over who could score first in a gay bar?" he asked incredulously.

Both Dean and Josh had the decency to look sheepish but Sam released a loud snort as he drained his beer, standing up. "Don't be surprised," he said, grabbing his jacket. "These two turn _everything_ into a competition."

Dean threw his brother an indignant look. "Only because Bhodi hasn't been able to beat me at anything yet," he defended.

"I'm waiting for the right moment," Josh jeered.

They were all standing and slipping their arms into their jacket sleeves when they noticed the three guys from the poker game were on their feet and looked as though they were heading this way.

"God-dangit," they heard Colby mutter. "Let's go fellas," he said, ushering them hurriedly towards the door.

"What's the rush?" Dean said instinctively, not wanting to look like he was running away. Cowardice wasn't an acceptable look for him these days, especially when his brother was watching. He would never forget Sam's stinging words spoken under the siren's influence.

Colby gave him a gentle shove from behind, pushing him towards the bar door. "Well," the Texan explained urgently, "when you bring two T-bones and a lamb chop into a place like this, you hafta expect things are eventually gonna get a little rowdy."

Josh and Dean both snapped their heads to face each other as they made their way to the exit. "T-bone!" they both called, raising their hands. A second later they both turned grinning to face Sam, clearly uniting against the younger Winchester in the tease.

Sam let out an annoyed huff and his nostrils flared as he pulled on a classic Sammy pout. "No way!" was all he got out before Colby was shoving him too towards the door.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**May 2009**_

Alex scanned the case files her Uncle Bryce had placed into her own file as reference cases while still listening to Bobby's verbal summary of what he had found out so far, absorbing the overlapping information with fascination and rising excitement. Dennison had found four people who had all suffered from 'Persecutory Delusional Disorder', the diagnosis he had given his niece. Their supposed delusions were unbelievably similar to Alex's own experiences.

The first, Jennifer Mollender, started seeing her red-eyed, shadowy monster when she was a child back in 1939. There were no witnesses to corroborate her stories, naturally, and her family, believing she was repeatedly injuring herself, institutionalized her at age fifteen. The behavior continued until she threw herself out of a third storey window and died at age twenty-two. No conventional methods of treatment were found to be effective and the girl's psychiatrist was completely baffled.

The second case study was more thorough and more recent. It was a man in Illinois named Gary Shultz who would now be fifty-two had he not committed suicide at thirty-four. Bobby sneered at the use of the word suicide, not seeing how anybody could believe a man could kill himself by choking himself with his own straight jacket. Again, no witnesses. As for the delusions, the story was the same. This time, however, Gary's shrink had included some interview transcripts and Alex's jaw dropped as she read them. This guy had claimed to be able to sense ghosts. A freak mojo, just like her.

The third was a woman in her forties, currently institutionalized in Minneapolis. Similar history but still alive. Bobby cut off Alex's eager suggestion to go see her. "I already did," he admitted. "If she wasn't insane then, she sure as hell is now. Crazier 'n a shithouse rat. Besides, we can't risk you getting' too close to any of his other…uh…"

"Chewtoys?" Alex offered with a chuckle, amused at Bobby's timidness. For a tough old guy, he sure was sweet.

The mechanic gave her a disapproving frown. "Whatever you call it, it ain't a good idea."

The last was another man, this time in Louisiana. His 'monster' had started attacking him when he was a young teenager and the violence of the attacks had steadily escalated as he grew older. His mother had refused to institutionalize him, believing his delusions were, in fact, real. Alex smiled as she read that part. "Way to go, Momma," she whispered under her breath. The man, Matthew Petraues, and his mother had disappeared, apparently deciding to run, much like Alex and Josh had. They had turned up several years later in a police report from Kentucky when Matthew was found dead, the apparent victim of a violent home invasion.

"I already went to see his Mom," Bobby explained. "She had a lot of stories but really didn't know any more than we already know."

Alex couldn't speak for a few minutes, reading and re-reading the papers in her hands. "I'm not the only one," she finally breathed in disbelief.

"Nope," Bobby agreed. "Seems your S.O.B. has been around for a long time and has a few names on his stalking list. Seems to like people with some sort of psychic ability. This Matthew guy's Mom claimed he could sense emotions from other people. These are just the ones your uncle dug up, the ones with records in the psychiatric community. There's likely plenty more he don't know about."

"But if there are so many, why don't hunters know about it?" Alex asked, perplexed. "If there's one thing I've learned about hunters, it's that they sniff out these kinds of things. They see patterns. None I've ever spoken to had ever heard of anything like Red-Eyes."

"Well," Bobby answered, "I'm thinking there's just one of him. If he was a species, we would know about him. So I'm figurin' your friend's the same one who terrorized these four unfortunate souls too. And to top it off, he's a smart 'un. He goes out of his way to make it look like his victims are plum crazy." Bobby flinched at his involuntary use of the word 'victim' before running his hand through his beard with reluctant admiration of Red-Eyes. "If a hunter had come snooping around, they woulda decided pretty quick it was a dead end. Lotsa leads do end up just being crazies. Hell, he convinced us," he admitted. "Your Red-Eyes only comes when you're alone. He alters the videos to show you doin' it to yourself. He toned down the cuts and bruises while you were in Oceanview, using…" Bobby struggled for less graphic words, "…using other means of causing pain with less visible damage."

Alex nodded in thoughtful agreement. "But you had said earlier you thought he might have killed me," she pointed out. "Do you think he killed these people?" She held up the papers to indicate the previous victims. "And if he wanted me dead, why would he call 9-1-1 when he sliced my wrists?"

"I don't think he _wants_ you dead," Bobby corrected. "But I do think he's got a temper and he's bound to get over-zealous eventually. Matthew's mom said he got extra angry when Matthew fought back. From what I can gather, the same goes for you."

Alex nodded again. On the many occasions she had tried any sort of supernatural weapon against him, Red-Eyes had definitely dialed up the physical damage meter. Over the years, she had shot him with silver and consecrated iron, blasted him with holy water and an assortment of dusts and potions that various hunters had suggested, tried to trap him in quite a few different supernatural-type traps, and attempted many spells, chants, exorcisms, and rituals. All any of them had ever succeeded in doing was getting the bastard madder. Mad enough to slice her wrists or stab her with a screw driver. Mad enough to kill her parents and put her brother in a coma. Mad enough to pull Bill Harvelle's insides out and throw him down on the ground in front of her.

"So what's our next move?" she asked, changing the subject.

Bobby grinned and leaned over her to the laptop mouse. "I've been lookin' and lookin' and haven't come up with a damn thing," he admitted. "But Ellen sent me this today." He clicked open a pdf file of some pages of hand-written notes. "Seems her husband was lookin' into your monster quite a few years back, 'fore he died. He had this in his journal."

Alex noticed he didn't mention that Bill Harvelle had died while hunting her monster but was in no way going to bring the subject up herself, so she read the scrawled notes on the screen in silence, Bobby standing behind her waiting patiently with his arms folded. As she moved her attention to the text of the email Ellen had sent along with the information, she couldn't believe what she was reading.

They had a lead. An honest to God _lead_. It was Red-Eyes' turn to be the hunted one!

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 2009**_

Outside, the four hunters fanned out on the porch, clearly annoying Colby who was still trying to herd them towards the cars.

"Geez, Texas, I'm movin'," said Dean as he received a none-too-gentle shove from the cowboy in the direction of the Impala.

Josh grinned as he strode around to the Mustang's passenger side. "See ya back at the motel, Lamb Chop," he called to Sam, whose already pink shade turned a deeper red. His pout couldn't get any bigger if he transplanted Jagger's lips.

"Let's just get going, shall we?" Colby urged, clearly not finding this as amusing as the three straight men seemed to be finding it. He waited until Sam and Dean were in the Chevy and Dean had her purring loudly before he started up his Ford and backed up in the small parking lot, slipping the Mustang quickly into the busy city traffic. Dean was right behind him, waiting for another opening in traffic so he could follow when he noticed a man in a beige trench coat standing outside his driver's window next to the row of bikes.

He braked quickly, backing the Impala's nose in off the street before shutting her off and getting out.

"Cas! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I didn't want to startle you from your back seat again," the angel said politely.

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam came around the front of the Impala to stand next to him. "What's up?" Dean asked, deciding now wasn't the time for an explanation of acceptable 'popping in' etiquette.

"You lost the last witch."

Dean's shoulders slumped and he leaned back on his car. "Yes, we're aware of that, Cas," he snapped. "But thanks for the reminder."

"If Netiran is resurrected, the sixtieth seal will be broken," Cas continued, oblivious to his charge's sarcasm.

"Look, we know that," Sam interrupted, seeing no need to waste time throwing around the blame card at this point. "We were trying to find any of the four monsters being used in the ritual but we're not having any luck."

"Yeah, seems the demons snatched up the vampire a few hours ago," Dean added. "Got any hints on where to find any of the others?"

Cas pressed his lips together and pulled on a slight frown as he sighed. "No," he said simply.

"Well, we've been trying a different approach," Dean carried on, hiding his disappointment that the angel had nothing to offer. "We figured if we can find out any information about the ritual itself then we may still be able to intercept it."

Cas's frown smoothened out slightly and he nodded his head slowly. "The ritual must take place at dawn," he offered.

"Okay, that's a start," Sam encouraged. "Anything else?"

"That is all I know," the angel replied, turning his intense stare towards the younger Winchester. "Like I said, they…"

"They don't tell you much. Yeah yeah, Cas, we get it," Dean cut him off, frustrated. "You're just a stooge."

Cas's frown returned but he didn't take the bait.

"Oh crap," Sam said suddenly, looking past Cas towards the bar entrance. Dean followed his gaze to see Briggs strolling towards them through the small parking lot, a beer in his hand as he sidled between two Harleys.

The elder Winchester couldn't help but laugh, though he suddenly found the huge man's persistence vaguely threatening and his 'protect Sammy' instinct returned from its brief hiatus.

"Hi again," Briggs smiled sheepishly at Sam as he came to stand next to Cas, dwarfing the angel even more than Sam did. Cas took a step backwards and turned to face the newcomer, an impatient look on his face showing how he felt about the interruption.

"Uh, hi," Sam eeked out, uncomfortably.

"Listen, I understand about needing some time off," the large man said directly to Sam, ignoring the two other men. "But I just wondered if, you know, we could maybe get a cup of coffee sometime. No expectations, no pressure, but I won't take no for an answer."

Dean rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure he'd used that very line on more than one occasion after receiving the brush-off excuse about 'just getting over a bad relationship and needing some space'. Actually, it had worked for him every time and he'd never even had to follow up with the actual coffee-date. But this guy was huge and was moving himself far too close to Sam for the young hunter to take him out without at least getting a black eye in the process. If a fight broke out in the parking lot, God knows how many of this guy's buddies would come rushing out to defend him, so Dean decided to make up for his earlier betrayal.

"Listen Buddy," he stepped in front of the tattooed biker. "I'm real sorry about what I said earlier, but you see, me and him," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Sam. "We are together, okay. We were just having a spat."

"Oh," Briggs looked genuinely disappointed.

"But hey, don't be so glum," Dean perked up, giving the giant a friendly shoulder thump. "'Cause I happen to know that this guy right here is single and he's definitely looking for some company tonight," he grinned, gesturing towards Cas, who had an impatient but slightly curious look on his face.

Briggs turned to study at the angel, whose blue eyes widened in wary confusion at the scrutiny.

"Pretty, ain't he?" Dean urged, suddenly in a good mood again. Even Sam's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter as he stood grinning next to his brother, for once enjoying one of Dean's practical jokes.

"My name's Briggs," the biker offered, extending his hand towards Castiel and clearly deciding to go for the supposedly easier mark. "What's yours?"

Cas looked down at the giant hand for a second before taking it slowly. "Cas," he said simply, allowing the vigorous handshake.

Trying his hardest not to giggle like a schoolgirl, Dean backhanded Sam's chest and jerked his chin as instruction to get going. Sam obeyed by moving back round to his side of the car, watching Cas's obvious discomfort with amusement as he ducked his head and sank back into his usual leather seat. The moment's levity had temporarily erased the gnawing thoughts of Ruby's blood and he suddenly realized why Dean and Josh had found his earlier predicament so hilarious. Of course, a joke was always funnier when you weren't the butt of it, but he had to admire his brother's unwavering ability to find life's more amusing side even in the darkest of times. He remembered as a child thinking that was one of Dean's more awe-inspiring and heroic traits and wasn't sure when it had changed to be simply a sign of juvenile immaturity.

"Cas? Is that short for anything?" he heard Briggs say as Dean opened his driver's door and got back in the Impala.

"You two have a fun night," Dean called cheerily out of his window. The grins on both Winchesters' faces were wiped off immediately, however, when the angel simply reached up and touched his forefinger lightly to Briggs' forehead. The big guy slumped heavily to the ground next to the car and the angel promptly disappeared with that vaguely fluttering sound.

"Oh crap," Dean groaned, noticing a couple of bikers exiting the bar. He slammed his foot on the gas, wanting to get out of the lot before the men noticed their unconscious fellow patron. "They are so gonna think we did that." The Impala shot into traffic and weaved its way hastily forward towards the Prince Albert Motel. "I'm gonna kill Cas," Dean announced, checking his rear-view mirror to make sure no angry bikers were following them.

Sam was laughing. It was almost an unfamiliar sound to Dean by this point and the older hunter found himself relishing the experience, the pleasant sound lessening his worry of pursuit.

"You can't blame Cas. That was totally on you, Dean," his younger brother pointed out, shaking his head.

Dean grinned back. "Yeah, I suppose it was," he admitted.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap: Bobby and Alex head out on their quest to figure out what Red-Eyes is and tensions run high when the Winchesters get back to business as they scramble to stop the ritual..._


	13. Deal With Your Shit

_Note: I accidentally posted chapter 14 instead of chapter 13 and didn't notice for an hour so those of you who had started reading and were wondering what was going on, I apologize - here is the right text :)_

**Chapter 13**** – Deal With Your Shit**

_**May 2009**** (one week before Josh gets out of jail)...**_

Bobby and Alex were still going over all the new information the next morning when McLovin brought back the Bronco, which he had borrowed to drive his high-school crush home from the bar the night before. Alex thanked him but rushed him away, feeling slightly guilty at his obvious disappointment at not being allowed to relay every detail of his 'epic night' last night. The kid was funny and sweet, but right now she had far more important things on her mind. Things like getting help from the guy who was probably the most likely person on the planet to find a way to kill red-Eyes, the guy Dean had called 'the hunting guru' on more than one occasion. She dashed back into the kitchen where Bobby stood patiently and took up her seat in front of the laptop again, picking up reading Bill Harvelle's journal where she had left off.

Apparently, between Bill Harvelle and John Winchester, no monster could fly under the radar for very long. In 1991, they had found Ross Wilson, a twenty-year old man in Dallas who reportedly claimed to be tormented for years by a large, black, shadowy creature with glowing red eyes. They had wanted to use the man as bait and draw out the monster so they could take it out but he had declined their help, insisting their plan wouldn't work and would just get the creature angry at him. Harvelle's journal then mentioned finding another similar case but the page was ripped out and Bobby insisted quickly that there was no more information on that front. Alex had spent enough time watching Josh to be able to read people fairly well, even crafty experienced liars like Bobby, and could tell he was lying but didn't push the issue, not wanting to admit she knew that 'similar case' had been her.

The last page had a bit of background information the two deceased hunters had dug up on their suspected supernatural culprit. More specifically, it had a lot of information on Cucui. These were a type of goblin who, contrary to popular belief, were not the small green mischievous creatures that ate children as they were too often portrayed in folklore and fairytales. They were large, evil, sadistic, vicious, and practically immortal. They were said to have glowing red eyes when committing evil deeds and were seen selectively, meaning some people could see them while others could not.

As fitting as their description seemed, Alex discounted this information as she read it, having already researched Cucui goblins with Josh a few years ago. All accounts of them definitely put them as corporeal, not to mention extinct. Red-Eyes could phase in and out of solidity and transported himself around like he had his very own James Doohan working the controls, much like angels and high-level demons did. The only way to kill a Cucui was to stab it in the heart with an iron blade dipped in sacrificial lamb's blood, which she had successfully done when Red-Eyes had caught up with her in Seattle. It hadn't worked.

There weren't any specifics listed on exactly how Bill and John thought they could waste the creature and Bobby didn't push for details of their failed attempt from the blonde sitting next to him now. Whatever method they had used hadn't worked anyway so there was no point in asking her to relive any nasty memories from her childhood.

It was Ellen's accompanying email that caused Alex's heart to speed up with excitement. A year ago, Ellen had heard word from a hunter that had previously frequented her bar that Ross Wilson was alive and well, living in a very secluded cabin deep in the woods of Wyoming. She included directions. Ellen wrote that she had gone to talk to him to try and find out more about the creature but he had chased her off with a rifle, adamantly refusing to see her. During their standoff outside his cabin, however, he had shouted that he didn't need her help, claiming that he had all the information he needed on the S.O.B. and that he knew exactly what it was but the truth was it couldn't be killed. Ellen had dropped the pursuit, not wanting Jo to find out about this guy as the stubborn girl would undoubtedly insist on hunting it down herself and Ellen didn't want her daughter taking on that particular monster.

Alex turned to Bobby, her eyes wide. "Let's go see him," she said with barely contained excitement.

Bobby raised his eyebrows. "Are we reading the same email?" he asked incredulously. "What part of gun-toting antisocial loon did you not understand?"

Alex smiled. "He'll see me," she dismissed confidently, knowing without a doubt if anyone ever came to her claiming to know of Red-Eyes she'd never turn them away. "Besides, the Cucui angle's a bust," she pointed out, explaining her previous attempt at following that logic, leaving out the part where Red-Eyes had been extra mad and extra violent afterwards. "So you see, this could be our only real lead."

Bobby ran his hand thoughtfully through his beard. In truth, he'd had every intention of going to see this man but he had planned on going alone. Of course, he was no fool and had no doubt Alex was going to go anyway, with or without his permission or his company. "Alright," he relented gruffly. "We'll go."

The blonde squealed her excitement and looked like she was actually going to hug him for a split second. She held back and grinned widely at him, a genuine smile that, for the first time since her arrival at Singer's Auto Salvage, actually reached all the way up into her blue eyes, giving them a definite mischievous sparkle. Bobby was caught a little off guard and couldn't help but return the grin, suddenly realizing without a doubt what it was about this girl that had caught the attention of Dean Winchester all those months ago.

"We can leave after breakfast," he said, attempting unsuccessfully to pull his gruff face back on. "But I do all the drivin'."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 2009**_

Josh and Colby were in the process of breaking into Sam and Dean's motel room when the Impala pulled up. Colby deftly pocketed his lockpick and turned to grin at Dean as the older hunter walked up with a disbelieving frown on his face.

"Sorry man," the cowboy shrugged as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, though his tone didn't sound remotely apologetic. "But you surely drive like an ol' lady. I got bored standin' outside. What took you so long?"

"Celestial meeting," Dean answered, following Colby inside but throwing his hand out against the door to support himself as Shelby shoved her way roughly past him. The dog proceeded to jump right onto Sam's bed and lie down, keeping a watchful eye on her owner and his new friends. Dean snickered, glad the dog hadn't taken to shedding all over his bed.

"Bro, your angel showed up?" Josh asked, disappointed he'd missed Castiel again.

"For the last time, he's not _my_ angel," Dean clarified. "But yeah, he stopped by. He really hit it off with Colby's friend Briggs, by the way. Swept him clean off his feet."

"Did he have any information about the ritual or any of our missing monsters?" Josh pressed, deciding not to ask what had happened with Briggs and suspecting it was something the unfortunate Colby would have to account for later.

"Only that the ritual has to take place at dawn," Sam answered, closing the motel door behind him as he came in. He claimed one of the chairs at the table and hauled out his laptop.

"Dawn tomorrow? As in, less than nine hours from now?" Colby asked sharply.

"Don't know," Dean shrugged. "Probably. Why wait right?"

"So what do we have to go on?" Josh asked.

"We've got Scandinavian Dagga Weed and Crybaby-a-something," said Dean.

"Crybroggia," Sam corrected, already typing the names into the search engine.

"So what is that?" Dean asked his brother.

"Give me a few minutes, Dean," Sam snapped impatiently.

Dean rolled his eyes at the reprimand and looked at Josh. "Hey Bhodi, wanna get your ass kicked?"

Josh grinned. "What do you have in mind? Poker?"

"Already cleaned you out at poker, remember?" Dean laughed, ignoring Sam's snort. Last year in Indiana, Dean had actually cheated to win Josh out of the blond man's cherished Desert Eagle pistol, as well as a couple of hundred bucks. Dean picked up the Guitar Hero controller from Sam's bed. "How do you play this thing?"

"You've never played?" Josh's eyes lit up and he jumped to turn the game on. "Oh, this is gonna be like taking candy from a baby."

Taking that candy from a Winchester baby, however, proved to be far more difficult than he expected. After only one practice song during which Josh explained the controls, the two faced off to the gritty chords of Motorhead's Ace of Spades. Sam twitched his upper lip in annoyance at the high volume as he tried to concentrate on the apparent lower priority task of saving the world.

"Don't worry, Lamb Chop," Josh called over, somehow taking note of the younger Winchester's frustration though his eyes never left the TV screen. "It'll just take me one song to humiliate Captain America here."

Colby was sprawled in the chair across from Sam. "Don't sweat it, Sam," he laughed, clearly noticing Sam's glowering reaction to the repeat use of the undesirable nickname. "He'll go through every weird-ass nickname he can think of for a bit but he'll eventually settle on one."

Sam certainly hoped so. He had been called everything _but_ Sam ever since Alex's brother had shelved the anger over the Winchesters going along with his sister's plan to ditch him. "Better not settle on that one," he grumbled testily.

Dean's natural dexterity and lifelong training as a hunter gave him a definite advantage, not to mention the fact that he had spent a full week playing this very game non-stop while recovering from a leg injury in Podunk, Omaha a couple of months ago. The two were neck and neck the entire song and Josh was stunned when Dean's score ended up just slightly above his.

"Is there anything you're _not_ good at?" he snapped, trying really hard to remain a good sport. The guy wasn't freaking human. He didn't even play real guitar. Josh turned to Sam, not bothering to challenge the gloating Dean to a rematch in case he got shown up again. "Got anything, Junior?"

Sam told them what he had found so far. "Seems Dagga is a type of weed," he offered.

"That would explain why it's called Dagga _Weed_," Dean said sarcastically, making his way to the window and glancing cautiously out through a narrow slit in the curtains.

"I meant weed, like, smokable weed," Sam retorted, his foul mood not being helped by his brother's attitude. "Cannabis."

Josh laughed. "That's why it sounded familiar," he quipped, getting disapproving looks from both Sam and Colby. "What? We were all teenagers once," he defended.

"Well, the Scandinavian stuff is extremely rare," Sam continued. "And there's mentions of it being used in dark magic but not much I can find online."

"What about the other stuff?" Josh asked.

"Right, Crybroggia. I got nothin'. It's like it doesn't exist. At least, not online."

"This sucks," Dean griped, running his hand over his mouth and hitting Bobby's speedial button on his phone. "We are so screwed."

Bobby had never heard of either herb but told Dean he'd call around and see what he could dig up. Dean snapped his phone shut in frustration. Shelby seemed to notice his agitation and took it upon herself to climb off Sam's bed and nuzzle the elder Winchester's hand.

Sam's upper lip twitched as he watched Dean hesitantly tap the husky's head and realized the dog had yet to even acknowledge him. Dean didn't even like dogs. Finally giving up on his reluctant petter, Shelby turned towards Colby.

"Well, that's my cue, I reckon," her owner sighed, getting up. "I gotta take her out, do her business. I'll be back in a few."

"Dude, you packin'?" Dean asked, figuring none of them could be too careful at this stage.

Colby scoffed, pulling up the front of his shirt to reveal his pearl handled revolver tucked in his jeans and opening his jacket to reveal another Glock strapped into the inside lining. "I'd be here all night if I had to give you an inventory," he grinned, implying there were at least a few more weapons hidden on his person.

Dean nodded his approval and Colby left with Shelby prancing excitedly behind him. Dean chuckled as the cowboy closed the door and turned to Josh. "You know, he's pretty cool," he admitted. "I can totally see why your sister liked him, dude."

"Yeah, 'cause he's exactly like you," Sam interjected. "Well, except the gay thing."

"Hmph." Josh's forehead creased as a thought entered his mind. "So, Dean…" he ventured, giving the hunter a curious look before cutting himself off and deciding against that line of questioning.

"What?" Dean asked, uncomfortable with the look he was getting. A look that said he wasn't really gonna like the next question. He fidgeted and glanced out the window again.

"Uh, you seem twitchy. What's up with the paranoid routine?" Josh deflected, deciding not to ask what had gone on between Dean and his sister after all and calling the hunter instead on his frequent glances out the window.

"Demons," Dean admitted. "I'm thinking maybe we should switch motels. They know we're in town and they've been coming after us like crazy now that they know the angels have some kind of plans for me. We shouldn't stay in one place too long." He let out a long sigh and sat down wearily in the empty chair. "Remember the good old days, Sammy, when we used to be the hunters instead of the hunted?"

Josh let out an unintentional snort, his train of thought drifting.

"What was that for?" Dean demanded.

"Let me get out my violin," Josh chuckled, though there was no humour in the sarcasm. "It's just... my sister's been hunted her whole life. Why do you think she likes these kind of jobs so much?"

Dean dropped his offensive tone, thinking about Josh's words and realizing they were the truth, despite what Alex had told him. He thought with genuine sympathy how much it would have sucked to have this feeling all through his childhood, always waiting for something to get you, looking over your shoulder. "She told me she hunted to help people," he said more quietly.

"That's my reason. Lexie's goes deeper than that." Josh said, suddenly missing his sister tremendously. "She's tough and headstrong and if there's one thing she hates, it's being helpless. But no matter what she does, what she tries, no matter how hard she fights back, that red-eyed bastard always manages to come out on top. She always ends up helpless against him. She loves hunting because it turns the tables. Hunting lets her be something other than prey."

The three were silent for a moment, neither Winchester sure how to respond to Josh's emotionally delivered words. It was Josh who eventually spoke, changing the subject somewhat. "So what's our next move?" he asked. "We really need to get going on this 'cause if that ritual's going down tomorrow morning, we need to be there," he said with determination. "No point in killing Red-Eyes if Satan himself is gonna be wandering around killing people by the millions, my little sister included."

Sam's cell suddenly rang, startling him with the vibrating sensation that pulsated up through his ass-cheek. He jumped up and dug eagerly into his back pocket, pulling out the phone and barely glancing at the display before snapping it open. "Ruby?" he practically gushed into the phone before remembering that Dean was ten feet away, glaring at him with the usual disapproval and self-righteous condemnation.

Sam turned away from his brother, trying consciously to stop both hands from practically caressing the phone as he heard her voice answer him – finally.

_"Yeah. You called?"_

"Yeah, uh, I did," Sam tried his hardest to sound casual as his brain went into overdrive trying to word his conversation appropriately for both listening parties to draw their own acceptable conclusions. "Listen, I have a couple of questions for you, can you meet me somewhere?"

A pause._ "I take it I'm not welcome at your room?"_

"No." Sam didn't see any reason not to be direct. Besides, why was she playing these games with him? She knew what he wanted and she knew she couldn't give it to him with Dean around. And she knew she had pushed Dean over the edge yesterday with her heartless comment about Alex.

"_Fine, how about Moe's Bagels on Grant? I'll meet you in the parking lot."_

"Okay, see you in ten." Sam snapped his phone shut. He reached for his coat hanging over the back of his chair only to find Dean's hand planted firmly on top of it. He gave his older brother his best bitch face, not in any mood to put up with being bossed around.

"She's a witch, remember!" Sam snapped. "She may have information on Dagga weed and Crybroggia."

"So ask her over the phone," Dean growled, not removing his hand and not stepping back from Sam's towering frame. The tension in the room suddenly spiked. Josh remained silent, not that either brother would have taken any note of him anyway.

"Ruby's more receptive in person," Sam argued through gritted teeth. "Let go of my coat, Dean."

"No." Dean had had enough. "You need to stop sneaking around with her, Sam. She's…she's affecting you. Poisoning you. You're not the same and I know for a fact it's her fault."

"For starters, I'm not sneaking," Sam spat back. "And I know exactly who and what she is and I can take care of myself. You need to start having a little faith in me. Just, for once, trust me!"

"By trusting Ruby? A demon? Not a chance in Hell, Sam! She's trying to manipulate you, can't you see that? She's twisting everything around on you, trying to make you think like her!"

"Like what, Dean?" Sam jumped on that comment, all his anger and insecurities boiling to the surface and threatening to spill over. "Like a demon? You still think I'm gonna go darkside? What am I saying? You've already admitted it! You think I'm a freak and that there's this evil inside me just waiting to come out! Well I'm sick of your holier than thou attitude these days. I'm the same person you've known your whole life only now, I'm a grown up. I don't need you bossing me about and I certainly don't need you to _'save'_ me!" Sam threw all the sarcasm into the 'save me' part that he could, wishing for once Dean would see past his self-righteous hatred of all things demon and realize Sam was the only chance the world had of killing Lillith and stopping the impending apocalypse. "Goddamnit Dean, I don't _**need**_ you at all!"

Sam could see Dean's jaw was clenched and could tell he was too busy fighting all the emotions he was too ill equipped to deal with to manage a comeback. He took advantage of his big brother's inner emotional overload to yank his jacket from the chair back and storm out the door, slamming it shut as he left.

Dean stood in rigid silence for a moment, the slam of the door still echoing through his thoughts. He completely forgot there was a witness to the argument until Josh's voice sounded from behind him.

"Bro, what's goin' on with you two?"

Dean struggled to pull his game face on before turning but he didn't answer.

"You need to go after him; you really don't wanna leave it like that," Josh said, still sounding slightly stunned at the intensity of the argument.

"It's just an argument," Dean shrugged. "He'll get over it."

"That wasn't just an argument."

Dean felt a flicker of annoyance. He didn't need the Zen-master Surfer-Boy telling him things weren't good between him and Sam. He could see that with crystal fucking clarity. "Don't you ever argue with your sister?" he snapped.

"Yeah sure. We argue over whose turn it is to pick up dinner, or whether Marley's version of _I Shot the Sheriff_ is better than Clapton's, and she gets pissed at me when I use all the hot water."

"Well, we got bigger issues so we have bigger arguments, okay?"

"Even still, man, some things should never be said. And if they are, you need to deal with it. Don't let the kid stew."

_Damnit, why wouldn't Josh just let the matter drop?_ "Look, we don't need to talk things out and share our goddamn feelings every time we don't see eye to eye," he said tensely. "You don't understand anything that's going on here. I mean seriously, what do you know?"

"I know a little about being the big brother."

Josh actually sounded apologetic but Dean didn't notice. He was hurt and angry and scared and it was all about Sam. But Sam wasn't here. He turned to Josh with a cold look on his face. "Oh yeah? You think you're such a great big brother? 'Cause the way I understand it, your little sister was getting the crap kicked out of her for what? eight or nine years right under your nose and you didn't even pay enough attention to notice!"

He regretted saying it as soon as the words came out. He didn't have much time, however, to taste that regret as it was smacked out of him by Josh's fist hitting his face.

Dean wiped the trickle of blood from his lip with the back of his hand and looked slowly up at Josh, his anger boiling over. "You only got one free pass, dude, and you used that up at the jail," he snarled before throwing all of his weight into a hard right-hand swing aimed at the blond man's face.

Josh ducked it but didn't manage to sidestep the follow-up underhand that landed in his abdomen, dangerously close to the stitched-up hole Ella had made. The pain that shot right through him from the blow wiped any notions of holding back from his mind and he immediately lunged for Dean, knowing the skilled fighter would instinctively try to get a couple more fast ones in and knowing he couldn't risk being on the receiving end of another shot in the stomach.

The chair was behind Dean so the lunge had the desired effect of shoving him back enough to trip over it, knocking off his feet. Dean knew better than to let himself land on the floor while his opponent was still upright, so his hands grabbed Josh's arm sleeves, pulling him down to the floor with him.

The two grappled roughly on the stain-peppered rug for a minute during which time Dean got a few good punches in before Josh managed to get a boot in Dean's face. They rolled apart and scrambled to their feet simultaneously. For a split second, Dean thought the abnormally easy-going Josh was going to back down.

Josh, however, had been holding his temper too long over his sister's situation to tuck it back down quite so quickly. He stepped forward and fired another jab at Dean, grabbing his shirt collar as he did so. Dean returned the favour and added his knee to the dance, ramming it into Josh's stomach. The blond man stifled a cry of pain as he felt his stitches rip, shoving Dean backwards so hard the hunter slammed up against the wall, his back making a human-size hole in the drywall.

Dean didn't slow and bounced back, taking another swing at Josh, not caring right now that this was his friend, one of the good guys. He too had been bottling up too much anger for too long and it felt good to have found a way to finally vent it. So good that he lashed out blindly, not worrying or caring that it wasn't the rightful recipient. _Goddamn Sam and his demon bitch!_

His punch connected and he took full advantage of the lead to fire off a couple more, the third landing so hard Josh toppled backwards and landed on the motel table, which instantly broke under the weight, dropping the man onto the floor in a pile of splintered wood and cold coffee. Josh rolled quickly out of range of Dean's boots, scrambling back to his feet as he wiped away the blood that was trickling across his eye.

Again, Dean was surprised when Josh didn't back down and instead rushed him again, this time managing to get past the headshot Dean threw at him and land a few savage hits in the hunter's gut before driving his elbow into his neck. The effective move sent Dean back a few paces, struggling for air as he gasped and grabbed his throbbing throat.

The fight continued with unwavering intensity and not a single word was spoken until Dean noticed the patch of blood on Josh's shirt in the vicinity of where Ella had stabbed him.

"Oh shit," he hesitated, giving Josh a perfect opening to get in a brutal strike to the face that send Dean crashing onto the bedside table, smashing the cheap bedside lamp into a thousand tiny pieces.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam stopped a few doors down, leaning over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He hated that Dean was so stubborn and judgmental, but he hated the words he had thrown at his big brother even more. Arguments like this one had been on the brink of exploding for weeks now, ever since their encounter with the siren. But until now, they had both managed to keep the lid on them. Sam hated the_ 'I don't know you anymore_' look Dean was always throwing at him but right now it didn't seem as bad as the hurt and betrayed look he had seen tonight, peering its way through Dean's mask of anger.

He realized in his haste to leave that he hadn't grabbed the Impala's keys from the table. Ruby was waiting for him – he desperately needed to get to the bagel store. There was no way he could go back in there to get the keys and hitchhiking in the city would take way too long. He realized he was standing next to Colby's Mustang and decided to sit tight for a few minutes until the cowboy came back from his dog walk. Surely Colby would drop him off and then Ruby could drive him back. He put his hands in his pockets and donned his typical hunched-over Sammy pose as he paced back and forth on the motel's porch with growing impatience, waiting for Colby.

It was only a few minutes later he heard the noise. His head jerked up, years of hunter's training and natural instincts kicking in. A loud banging followed by a crashing sound and it was definitely coming from their room. _No no no! _he thought, racing towards the door and his brother. _Demons! _

He opened the door just as Josh was smacking backwards into the wall by the window. Sam's trained instincts allowed him to assess quickly and, judging by the blood on Josh's face and the fact that his eyes were still their usual insanely intense shade of blue, ascertained that the blond man was not possessed by a demon. He stepped forward and grabbed Dean's arm midswing, saving Josh from a definite black eye.

What the hell's going on here?" he demanded as Dean shook him off and stalked away from him, folding his arms across his chest as he took up a rigid stance by the bathroom door. "Why are you two fighting?" Sam pressed.

Josh straightened himself up stiffly, touching his fingers gingerly to the open head wound that was trickling blood down his face. "We're not," he said tersely. "You two are." He walked towards the door, stopping to clasp Sam on the shoulder as he passed him. "I just took one for you, kid," he told him. "Don't waste it." He looked gravely back and forth between the brothers. "Deal with your shit."

It sounded eerily like a John Winchester order.

With that he left, closing the door with a thud behind him.

There was a heavy silence during which neither brother looked at the other, both pretending to survey the extensive damage to the room. Sam sighed, realizing his brother must be hurting worse than he had realized for him to take it out on his friend. Dean had lashed out physically at his younger brother on only a handful of occasions during their lives and all were times when he had been all emotionally twisted and broken inside. The anger he had voiced at each of those times had just been a mask for inner hurt.

It was Sam who broke down first, finally training his eyes on his quickly-bruising brother. "So are we gonna talk about this?"

"What's there to talk about Sam?" Dean snapped back.

Sam decided to start with a lesser bone of contention. "How about that you're still pissed about what I said before, with Nick."

"Oh, you mean that I'm weak and pathetic?" Dean snarled. "Nah, why would I be pissed at that?"

"For the hundredth time, Dean, it was the siren talking!"

"Do we really need to get into this?" Dean threw his hands up. "I told you I'm fine with it."

"Oh, so sorry. Maybe I should leave again and you can talk to Josh about it." Sam had been bottling this one up for a long time and decided now was as good a time as any to get it out. Better that than arguing about Ruby.

"What's that supposed to mean?" _Did Sam not notice he and Josh hadn't exactly been talking?_

"Well, he fits the bill, doesn't he?"

"What bill?"

"Like Nick. He makes a better brother! Since I'm not me anymore, remember!" Sam threw Dean's hurtful words under the siren's influence back at his brother. Dean wasn't the only one hurt during that painful exchange, though he seemed to think he had the right to throw himself a pity party every time the subject came up, always making Sam out to be the villain.

Dean glared at Sam, his back stiffening again. "You trying to say what I said wasn't the truth?" he challenged. "I'm not gonna deny what I said or blame it on the siren like some people."

"It's not what you _**said**_, Dean."

"Hey, you tried to kill me too. That part _was_ the siren."

Sam's angry tone had softened and it was his hurt voice he fired at his brother now. "Yeah, but I didn't fantasize about a replacement for you in the first place, did I? The siren looked inside you and saw your deepest desire."

Dean was stunned as realization of Sam's point hit him. "So that's what this is about? That's what you meant about Josh…"

Sam swallowed. "The thing you most want in the world, Dean. A normal brother who isn't a freak. Basically, a different me."

"No!" Dean cried, appalled that Sam would even think that was what he wanted. "That's just it! I want the _real_ you back – the Sam I used to have as my little brother. Before all the subterfuge, back when you trusted me and when you thought I had your back. Before you thought I was a coward and useless, and 'holding you back'!"

Sam lowered himself into the nearest cheap motel chair, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. He looked away as he answered. "I could never think you were a coward. I don't blame you for not wanting to go after Lillith," he admitted. "You were in Hell, Dean. I can't know what that did to you. And I don't think any less of you for wanting to play it safe." He sighed, unable to leave it at that. "But I can't take it slow anymore. I want that bitch Lillith dead. And I'm not gonna apologize for that."

Dean bit his lip, not wanting the conversation to go in the direction Sam had steered it in. He couldn't explain the hole Hell had left inside him or talk about what he had done there again. Not right now. His hands were clenched in tight fists to hide the fact that they were shaking and he was pretty sure his knees were actually trembling. "Look, Sammy," he said, his voice thick, "Let's just deal with it as it comes, okay? But right now, please don't leave. Just call Ruby and ask her about Dagga Weed. Please don't leave."

Dean didn't say please very often. Yet here he was practically begging Sam to stay. As badly as Sam wanted to go meet Ruby and fill another flask, he found himself nodding and slowly reaching for his phone, a small lump forming in his throat.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Josh was sitting in the Bronco with the door open cleaning the cut on his head when Colby sauntered up.

"Hey Jawsh. Whoa, what happened?" he asked, fingers moving to hover over the handle of the revolver tucked in his jeans, a genuinely concerned look on his face.

"Let's just say Sam and Dean have some issues between them," the blond man answered with a wince.

Colby rolled his eyes, relaxing. "Let me guess, you just had to go all marriage counselor on them."

"No, it was...hey! What are you implying?"

"Huh." Colby clearly didn't believe Josh's denial. "So where are they now?"

"In the room. Kissing and making up, I hope."

Colby raised an eyebrow and gave him a cheeky grin. "Now that I'd like to see."

"Eww, dude they're brothers."

"Not _my_ brothers."

Josh laughed. "You know, I think I liked you better when you were in the closet, bro."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap: The ritual is going down and the Winchesters and friends race to stop it..._


	14. I'm a Natural Born Diversion

**Chapter 14**** – I'm a Natural Born Diversion**

_**June 2009**_

Josh and Colby knocked on the door about half way through Sam's phone conversation with Ruby. Dean opened it up and gave them a quick nod before returning to the task of picking up the destroyed motel lamp shards from the floor. He didn't offer an apology to Josh or ask about his injuries. Josh hadn't been expecting one and didn't express any regrets of his own as he made his way to the washroom with his own med kit in his hand. He closed the door behind him with a quiet click, ignoring the fist-shaped holes in its front.

Sam was just snapping his cell phone shut when Josh emerged, looking cleaner at least. "You alright?" he offered, keeping the query casual.

"Yeah, I'll live," Josh replied, taking a seat on the end of Sam's bed since the Winchesters were occupying the room's only two chairs. Alone in the bathroom, he had cursed the fact that his sister wasn't here as her stitches were always smaller and neater than his own and he'd had to replace the lower half of the ones Lucas the Vet had put in Ella's stab wound. At least the cut on his brow hadn't needed stitches also. Shelby laid her head on his lap and whimpered, earning herself an ear scratch. "You get any leads?" he asked.

"Yeah, maybe," Sam answered. Ruby had been annoyed at him canceling but had willingly provided him with some information. It could prove to be useful but didn't exactly give them the location of the ritual. He noticed his brother was talking to Bobby and the elder Winchester set his phone to speaker and laid it face-up on the table so Bobby could hear Sam's latest intel as Sam relayed it to the group.

"Ruby says Netiran is a witch demon," Sam started.

"A witch demon?" Dean interrupted, still pissy about the fact the information was coming from Ruby.

Sam gave him an impatient look. "Yes," he continued, not hiding his own annoyance at the interruption. "We already know many black magic witch covens get their power from a demon, but it turns out it's a hierarchy, kinda like the crossroad demon thing. Each coven has a handler, a lower-level demon who juices up the spells by filtering the power into the magic at the cost of the witches' souls. But these demons, like the crossroads demons, answer to someone higher up the food chain, the demon with the real power."

"So Ella's demon was just another lacky channeling Netiran's power?" Josh asked.

"Kind of," Sam clarified. "Netiran was killed thousands of years ago by the Angel Laoth. He was killed, not just sent to Hell, but his power is somehow being sustained by his most loyal followers. Ella was tapping one of them. These demons keep Netiran's mojo going hoping that someday their leader will be resurrected. I guess they're probably pretty excited right about now, thinking it's finally happening."

"Not on my watch." Dean growled. "What else you got?"

Sam shrugged. "Not much," he admitted. "Dagga Weed requires a sacrifice to yield any power for a spell, just like Chris said, but she doesn't know anything about Crybroggia."

"_I thought she was supposed to be a kick-ass witch_," Bobby's voice crackled out of the phone on the table.

Sam tensed at the sarcasm. It was bad enough he was constantly being bitched at by Dean, he didn't need Bobby's opinion on the matter as well. "Look, she gave us a lot of information," he defended. "She's not exactly friendly with Lillith's crew right now. That's all she knows."

"_Well, I happen to have found out a little somethin' about Crybroggia root_," Bobby gloated.

"You're awesome, Bobby," Dean grinned at the phone, apparently quite pleased his source had come up with something Sam's hadn't. "You're the freaking Guru, you know that?"

Bobby didn't respond to the compliment but the group could almost hear him smiling through the phone as he continued. "_Turns out it's really powerful dark magic shit and get this, it's only effective on hallowed ground_."

"They're going to resurrect a demon on hallowed ground?" Josh sounded skeptical.

"Actually, that makes sense," Sam gushed, his voice rising in pitch slightly as it usually did when he was midstream of figuring something out. "This is a seal, remember. A seal locked by angels to keep another angel imprisoned. Throwing holy ground into the mix isn't that far out, really."

"So we're looking for a church," Dean said, heaping on the sarcasm. "Great. Not too many of those around."

"_Don't throw a hissy fit yet, princess_," Bobby scolded. "_Netiran's dead dead, not just biding his time in Hell. That means this is a resurrection, not a raising. That narrows things down a little._"

"How so?" asked Josh, realizing he was clearly the least experienced hunter in the room as the other three were simply nodding in agreement with this Bobby-guy's comment.

It was Dean who answered him, showing no trace of hostility or anger stemming from their earlier fight. "Resurrecting needs either the actual remains, which after a few thousand years is definitely not happening, or has to take place where blood has been spilled in the name of the dude being resurrected. A sacrifice. With this big of a sucker comin' through, we're pretty sure that sacrifice will be human."

"_Actually, for a resurrection this old, the sacrifice would have to be multiple witches serving Netiran himself._" Bobby added. "_It'd need a whack of extra mojo and with a more personal connection_."

"Like your witches," Colby offered. "They've already been sacrificed."

"Yep," Dean nodded. "And three of them were killed in the apartment building so my money says that's where it'll go down."

"_I don't think so, Dean_," Bobby disagreed. "_Three ain't enough. Bringin' this clown back from a thousand-year dead with no body, it'd take at least ten or fifteen. Hunter friend of mine last year caught a demon trying to bring back his two-hundred-year-dead boss with a four-person sacrifice. Dead sucker got halfway solidified then practically melted. An S.O.B as big-time as Netiran's gonna need more than three people's deaths. I think your witches were killed just to harvest the four different parts of the bastard."_

"Okay, so we're back on research then," sighed Sam, pulling out his laptop. "We need to find a place that ten or more witches have been killed."

"Wouldn't we have heard about that if it had happened?" Josh pointed out. "We've been all over the police scanners for days. No way that many girls get killed or even go missing without raising an alarm. Not locally, anyway."

"How about if it happened years ago?" Colby suggested. "I remember something about a gaggle of witches being burned sometime back in the gold rush days."

"_Doesn't matter when,_" Bobby's voice confirmed. _"Just where_."

"Alright, we'll get on that," Sam acknowledged. "Thanks Bobby."

"_You boys be careful, ye hear_?"

"You too," Dean fired back, taking the mechanic off speaker and lifting his phone to his ear. "Remember you promised you'd call before you try anything."

"_I will,_" Bobby agreed, knowing Dean was referring to the plan the older hunter was working on to take out Red-Eyes. "_Let me know how things go._"

"Your guy knows his stuff," Josh commented after Dean had hung up. "What is he, an uncle?"

"He's the non-blood kind of family," Dean admitted before changing the subject, not wanting Josh to ask any more questions about Bobby in case he managed to put two and two together and figure out where his sister was.

Colby only remembered a vague story of the gold rush witches he had heard during the few years he had spent as a teenager in Denver with his mother so Sam did his magic online and between the two of them they dug up a bit more of the story. Turns out gold was discovered in the area in the late 1850's, back when it was still part of Kansas Territory, sparking an immediate gold rush. In 1858, a group of miners from Lawrence settled in Montana City and then quickly moved to Auraria. Nobody had very much luck finding gold in the South Platte River except one man, the owner of the local whorehouse. This guy was rumored to have used black magic to find his gold and eventually his bitter fellow prospectors came after him and the eleven prostitutes working for him that they suspected of being his witch servants. They cornered them all in the local church and set it ablaze.

"Eleven witches? That'd do it," Dean said. "So where was this church?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "I can't find any mention of its location. We know the general vicinity is now a suburb of Denver, south of the South Platte River, but that's a pretty big area. The church was burned down so it could be a freaking shopping mall by now."

Colby got to his feet. "Well, I might know someone who has an idea," he offered. "A local hunter who's quite the history buff, especially this kind of history."

"'Kay, let's go," said Dean, grabbing his jacket.

Colby gave him a doubtful look. "Uh, this guy's a family man. His wife's pregnant an' all. If I show up there with you three, he'll just be sore at me and won't give me nothin'."

"What about just me, bro?" Josh asked, ignoring Dean's sigh of frustration at being asked to sit tight. Josh knew Dean wasn't great at waiting patiently but figured he and Sam could probably use some more time alone together to work away those last threads of tension still hovering between them.

Colby looked like he was about to say no but hesitated, looking hard at Josh. Finally he shrugged one shoulder and threw him a defeated smile. "Yeah, come on then dawg."

Sam chuckled as the two men and the dog left the room. "You know," he grinned at his brother, "I think I know why Colby never checked you out. He's only got eyes for one person."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You just figuring that one out genius?"

Sam felt a flicker of disappointment at being beaten to the punch. "I'm just sayin," he sulked. "Six years is a long time to carry a torch."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, and our boy Sigmund Freud is freaking clueless."

SPN-SPN-SPN

It was past four AM when Josh and Colby made it back to the room to find two antsy Winchesters waiting for them. Dean had managed to steal a couple of hours sleep and was now surfing infomercials while impatiently cleaning his already gleaming weapons. Sam hadn't moved from in front of his laptop, still trying to dig something up in case Colby's friend came up short. Sunrise was around 5:30, so they were running out of time fast if it was to go down this morning. Considering tonight was the full moon, they highly suspected it was, especially with a werewolf involved in the ritual.

Colby's friend, however, had come through, even if it had taken him and his very pregnant wife a while to dig up the information. The church in which the brothel owner and eleven of his working girls were killed was now the site of a high school.

"Oh crap, really?" Dean said upon hearing this.

Colby shrugged. "It's summer and it's the crack of dawn," he said hopefully. "Shouldn't be any civilians around to get hurt."

"Let's hope so," Dean sighed. "Alright, gear up," he ordered, snapping the room into action. "We gotta move. Sunrise is in an hour and we need to get to the other side of the city. Remember, salt, silver, consecrated iron, dead man's blood, shotgun with salt rounds, and a decent sized blade on everybody. And pack up because we're changing motels after this goes down. I don't want to stay too long in one place."

The other three men wordlessly obeyed, packing hurriedly and filing out of the room into the three cars. The Impala and the Bronco followed the Mustang out of the gravel parking lot in the dark, Colby being the most familiar with the route.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**May 2009 (A few days before Josh got out of jail)...**_

Bobby drove the Bronco slowly down the deeply rutted trail through the tall trees of the Wyoming forest. He had a pickup that probably would have made the trip but Alex had warned him that he didn't want to be stuck with her in a car with no radio for a road trip, so he had agreed to take her wheels. Bobby really didn't mind; he had to admit her brother had taken good care of the Ford and it was in better shape than any of the concoctions the mechanic pieced together from the parts in his yard.

"Okay, Ellen says there's a small walking trail off to the right somewhere around here," she informed him, rereading Ellen's emailed directions from the shotgun seat.

"Like that?" Bobby pointed to a barely noticeable trail leading into the trees. It was narrow and overgrown and definitely didn't look very well used. Bobby pulled the Bronco off onto the turf at the edge of the road and turned the engine off.

"Well he certainly doesn't go to town very often," Alex commented as she stepped out and met Bobby at the trunk.

"Antisocial, remember?" Bobby chuckled, grabbing a shotgun and stuffing some extra rounds in his pockets. "Hey, I got you something," he grumbled, shoving a brown paper bag in her direction.

She took it a little apprehensively, thrown off by the awkward look on the older man's face. She opened the bag and reached inside, pulling out a small, shiny handgun.

Her eyes widened in pleased surprise as she looked it over, glancing up at him with a grin and pulling on a fake, exaggerated drawl that sounded more Alabama than South Dakota. "Why thank-ya Bobby. What no gal should be without, an illegal semi-automatic firearm with the serial number filed awff."

Ignoring his customary scowl at her friendly redneck tease, she checked the clip (full, as expected) and squinted her eyes down the sightline. "It's a 2075 Rami," she said in a more serious tone. "I used to have one of these but I lost it last year in Indiana. It's the perfect gun for me." She double-checked the safeties and tucked the gun in the back of her jeans, pulling her fitted tee down over it. "See," she grinned, "Nice and small. No bulk. I love it! Thanks Bobby."

Bobby shrugged dismissively but smiled back at the blonde. "Well, can't have ya runnin' around without proper protection," he warned her, shouldering his double-barreled shotgun and closing the trunk.

They walked for a half-hour down the path through the trees and were both just starting to doubt the accuracy of Ellen's directions when the trees thinned out and they could make out an open area up ahead. They were just coming up to the edge of the clearing when the ground under Bobby's feet suddenly gave way and he felt himself falling.

He had heard a slight crack under his feet but before he his eyes could check it out he was crashing downward, arms and legs flailing as he banged his way through thin spars of splintered wood and bumped off what felt like concrete walls before landing with a splash in a deep puddle of water. He heard Alex cry his name from high above him just before his head went under and the coldness hit him with a bitter smack. He struggled to keep the shotgun up and get his feet on the ground he knew had to be there because his ass had smacked it hard when he had landed. It took the hunter a few seconds to get oriented but he eventually managed to steady himself and focus in the dark on his surroundings, performing a quick mental assessment of injuries as he did so.

He was sore and would be sporting a few good bruises but was relatively unhurt. He stood in about four feet of dirty, cold water at the bottom of a fifteen-foot deep concrete culvert pipe. The daylight flooding down the round opening high above was in sharp contrast to the darkness of the pit and the black water that was making its way through his innermost layer that very moment. It was too wide to shimmy up and there was nothing to grab onto on the smooth, concrete walls. He heard Alex calling him again and could make out the silhouette of her head peering down the well – _or was it a well_?

"Bobby? Bobby? Are you okay? Bobby!"

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "Nothin' hurt but my pride."

He still couldn't see her expression because of the sun glaring from behind her blonde hair, but his foul mood at his predicament deepened when he realized she was laughing at him. Not chuckling, but out and out laughing. If it had been Sam or Dean, he would have snarled a vicious threat followed by a stream of curses up at them but in this instance he managed to bite his tongue.

"Hold on," she laughed, still peering down at him on her hands and knees. "I'll get something to toss down so you can get up."

"Yeah, well, be quick about it would ya?" he said, growling out loud when he saw a flash coming from the cell phone in her outstretched hand. She took a friggin' picture?

She was just pulling her head back when he saw her expression abruptly change from amusement to alarm. She threw him a quick look of fear and he heard her whisper urgently "There's something here!" as she spun away from the hole. He stepped back to the far side of the hole, trying to see what was going on. He saw Alex whip out the gun he had given her and aim it straight out in front of her, rising to her feet and holding it with steady aim as if she had a specific target.

Bobby was near a panic. Had she sensed something with her mojo? She had said some_thing_ and not some_one_. Was there a demon up there_? Goddammit!_ He looked around frantically for a way out of the hole, grabbing at the tiniest cracks in the wall to see if he could hoist himself up. It was futile. He wasn't going anywhere. He was trapped. Trapped and blind and useless while Alex was facing some unseen enemy. So not a good feeling.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**June 2009**_

It was after five o'clock by the time they reached the school. All three drivers parked at the curb of the adjacent suburban street, squeezing their cars in between the yuppie Subarus and the Prius's. They gathered silently at the street corner by the school, each double checking their own concealed weaponry as they came together.

Dean surveyed the location. The proximity of civilian homes on this side of the school was a little daunting, though it was far enough that gunshots probably wouldn't be heard. Luckily, the other side and in behind of the school was all football field and trees, and there was a community center across the street that was clearly closed at this hour. All in all, the location could have been worse, Dean thought to himself. They should be able to get this done without endangering any civilians.

They used the hedges in the yard as cover and stole up to the locked side door in single file. Sam was confident the school had no burglar alarm and was proven right when none sounded as his brother used a crowbar to pry the metal door open.

The school did, however, have security cameras in the hallways and the hunters were hard pressed to keep themselves out of their line of sight as they crept down the main hallway looking for signs of demons or other supernatural going-ons.

"I don't remember freaking security cameras in any of our crappy schools," Dean groused as he sidled his way along the wall underneath one.

"That was before Columbine, dude," Sam pointed out.

"Well I don't think anybody's watchin' the monitors," Colby announced from the front of the line, stepping over the still form of a security guard slumped on the floor in a pool of blood.

"Damnit," Dean swore. "So much for no civilians getting hurt."

Colby replied by using his shotgun to gesture towards an open door marked 'security'. Dean nodded and the two slipped inside, followed closely by Sam and Josh.

The Winchesters and Colby scanned the four monitors, looking for movement on the screens while Josh went straight to the recording system and control monitor, clicking a few keyboard keys and checking a couple of connections on the back of a large box with blinking lights.

"It's not wired, definitely remote, looks like a CCTV system with an online archive," he informed them.

"Closed circuit? You sure?" Sam questioned. "What about offline monitoring? Live action or DVR?"

"Just archived. I once worked security at a dockyard, similar to this. I can bypass the archive feed without triggering the central notification."

Dean glanced back and forth between the two, annoyed that they were speaking Geek. Noticing Colby was sporting a blank expression also, he decided to ask for a translation. "Okay, now in English for those of us who didn't spend four years at Stanford," he griped.

"It's not transmitting a live feed outside to some dude watching a monitor," Josh explained. "It just stores the all the video internally in this box," he tapped a large black box with flashing lights and cables. "Unless an alarm is raised and someone accesses it online to check it out. I'll shut it down when we find what we're looking for and we can run around the halls all we like and not end up on the FBI's Most Wanted list."

"Speak for yourself, dude," Dean smirked. "I'm already there."

"No, you're on their 'Most Dead' list," Josh reminded him. "You really want to get back on the Most Wanted?"

Dean snorted, turning his attention back to the screens. In truth, he hadn't been overly cautious these days, not really thinking of his life from a long-term perspective. It really didn't seem likely he'd be around long enough to worry about his future at this point. He found it surprisingly heartening that it had occurred to Josh. At least one of them was still optimistic.

The monitors were each rotating through multiple camera views, showing only a few seconds of each one before flicking to the next. Several of the views showed people in the hallways by doorways, positioned as if standing guard.

"Demons," Dean said unnecessarily.

The end monitor flicked to show what had to be the gymnasium. "God-Dang," Colby breathed.

There were four large circles with all sorts of symbols around them drawn on the floor of the dimly lit gym. Several people, presumably demons, were standing about while one man standing in the middle of the four circles appeared to be talking, his arms gesturing excitedly as he spoke. There was one person in each circle.

"That's Kim!" exclaimed Sam, pointing to a young woman standing in the closest of the circles. "I thought the ghoul ate her."

"It's a frickin' shapeshifter is what it is," his brother growled, not needing the camera flare in the girl's eyes to confirm his suspicions. "Lillith's back-up, remember?" The screen flicked to another view and Josh quickly turned to the adjacent keyboard, hitting a few keys until the scene came back on.

"That's Ivan," Colby indicated another of the circles. The rest of the men immediately recognized the vampire, who appeared to be shackled by the wrists to a chain that was hooked to a steel anchor rammed into the gym floor within one of the circles.

Dean chuckled. "Looks like our boy wasn't being cooperative."

"And that's the old lady from Ella's sister's house in the third circle!" Josh cried, cursing himself. He'd been three feet from her on the porch when he'd asked for Ella and had been too clueless to take her out then. "She _was_ the damn shritga!"

"That makes the man in the fourth circle the werewolf," Sam ground out, a rush of adrenaline starting to make its way through his arteries and veins. "Guys, it's going down right now. We gotta get in there!"

"Hold on, Slick," Colby interjected, pointing at the other cameras. "There's gotta be at least a dozen demons around that gym in the halls. "We'll never make it in, especially if any of them got that flingin' power."

"The mojo? Not a problem," Sam said curtly, earning himself a scowl from his brother.

"How about if I create a diversion, draw most of the demons away, and you guys go in and take out the four in the circle?" Josh suggested with a dubious shrug. "If we kill the four parts then no ritual and no Netty, right?"

"No offense Jawsh," Colby said, shaking his head, "but you'd last about three seconds against that many demons."

"I'll do it," Dean offered instinctively.

Colby rolled his eyes. "You'd last four."

"Dean, he's right," Sam added sternly. "I'm the only one who can keep the demons away long enough for you guys to take out these sons of bitches."

"Why you?" Colby asked, narrowing his eyes at Sam.

"He's right," Dean agreed, much to Sam's surprise. "So _we'll_ do it." Sam started to argue at Dean's inclusion of himself but Dean cut him off. "We don't have time for a debate, Sam; we have to move now!" Dean turned back to the other two. "We'll get a good chunk of the demons away from the doors, enough that you two can get in there and kill the suckers in the circles."

"Okay," Sam relented through gritted teeth, knowing they didn't have time to argue. He pointed to a screen. "That door to the gym's your best bet," he suggested to Colby and Josh, who were both pulling out their guns loaded with silver and consecrated iron and their shotguns. Colby also had a small crossbow loaded with eight-inch long arrows whose heads and shafts had been coated in dead man's blood.

Sam continued thinking out loud, always preferring to have a well thought out plan as opposed to Dean's fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants method. "We'll draw them towards the back of the school. Salt as many doors as you can, at least the ones on the front side, before you go in," he instructed Colby.

"Yeah, that way we'll be able to get out without being followed," Colby agreed. "I wish we had time to salt the whole perimeter of the building," he added. "It'd make it easier for you two to outrun whatever demons you manage to attract."

Sam just shrugged. He had no intention of trying to outrun the demons.

Josh kept silent, trying hard not to think about how nervous he was for all of them as he quickly disabled the security system feed without setting off the external alarm. If the Winchesters drew most of the demons away, he and Colby should have no problems getting into the gym and taking out at least one of the 'embodiments' of Netiran, but that would leave the brothers facing multiple demons and Josh didn't like their chances. Of course, if they _didn't_ draw enough of the guards away, he and Colby may never make it inside the gym. Bit of a lose-lose situation as far as he was concerned.

"What are you fellas gonna do?" Colby asked Dean as they exited the security room.

Dean gave him the expected cocky grin. "Oh, we'll think of something. Don't worry, I'm a natural born diversion."

With that, the group of hunters divided and headed off in two opposite directions.

Josh and Colby headed towards the front of the building, sprinting down hallways and pressing themselves to the walls to peek around each corner to avoid being detected by demons. They each had a small bag of salt and split up to line as many doors that didn't have demon guards as they could, saving enough to salt the door they were going to enter the gym through once the Winchesters lured the guards away. They met back near a side door and ducked in between some lockers to wait.

"I'm getting' the feelin' some of the rumours about Sam Winchester may be true," Colby whispered after a few seconds of silence. "Exactly what is it he can do?"

Josh gave him a one-shouldered shrug and avoided eye contact. He had sworn not to divulge any of Sam's uniqueness or special abilities and planned on keeping his word. "Doesn't really matter what he can do," he said evasively. "It just matters that he's one of us. On our side."

Colby raised a hand. "I'm not judgin'," he defended. "Just curious."

In all honesty, Josh wasn't sure exactly what Sam could do. He certainly had more going on than just the death visions he had admitted to back in Indiana last year. Josh had seen Sam holding his hand out at Ella and had seen the demon in her forced out, but the memory was foggy and he wasn't really sure what it meant. It was clear Dean disapproved of the power and, as he gathered from their argument earlier, disapproved of the brunette also, Sam's demon friend. If a demon was arguing for Sam using this power, then it stood to reason it was a bad thing. But from what Josh could tell, it had saved Ella's life and got rid of the demon, so it couldn't be all bad, could it?

He decided that for now, he was going to trust that Sam knew what he was doing. Josh was going to be last person ever caught judging the kid since he knew too well how wrong uninformed judgments could be. He had watched his sister land on the receiving end of those for most of her life.

SPN-SPN-SPN

Sam and Dean headed for the back side of the large gymnasium. They salted the exterior door where they had entered the school and chalked a hasty Devil's Trap overhead, just in case they actually made it away from the demons alive and needed a few seconds extra getaway time. Both hunters would have preferred more prep time but didn't think they had it to spare as it had seemed the ritual was already underway.

"What exactly do you have in mind here, Dean?" Sam asked his brother as they peeked around a corner at two demons standing near the far end of the adjacent hallway.

Getting used to Dean's more cautious approach to Lillith-related fights, Sam was actually pleased when Dean gave him one of his infuriating '_I'm gonna do something really reckless and hotheaded and probably get myself killed'_ grins.

"Simple," he said, cocking his shotgun and stepping boldly around the corner. "We're gonna raise a little Hell."

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap: I think it's pretty obvious...basically all Hell breaks loose._


	15. We Goin' Out the Window?

**Chapter 15**** – We Goin' Out the Window?**

"Hey scumbags!" Dean yelled at the two demons and paused until they turned to face him. "Yeah, it's me, Dean Winchester!" He blasted a shot of salt rounds at them and recognition flared in their eyes as they charged towards the Winchesters.

"That's right asshats!" He fired again, hitting one of them in the chest though it barely caused the demon to falter for a few steps as he kept coming down the hallway.

Sam stood his ground next to his brother, huffing in annoyance that Dean actually intended to try and take these two on using only Ruby's knife and a shotgun, ignoring Sam's obvious advantage. The older-looking one reached them first and Dean stepped forward swiftly, pulling the knife out from under his shirt and thrusting it forward into the demon's belly.

As the orange lights flashed behind its eyes, the second one rushed towards Sam, taking a hard swing at the tall hunter. Sam dodged it, fighting every instinct he had not to throw up his arm and exorcise the son of a bitch. He punched back, landing a fist on the demon's jaw. The hit barely registered and before he knew it, Sam found himself on the receiving end of a hard blow in the stomach, so hard it threw him back into the wall behind him.

As Sam struggled to regain his breath, the second demon turned his attention to Dean. The elder Winchester swung the knife in a smooth arc aimed at the demon's neck but the agile opponent leaned away from it. As the blade passed harmlessly by its throat, its arm shot up and gripped Dean by the elbow, twisting roughly while the other hand landed palm outwards in the hunter's chest at a downward angle.

Dean slammed to the floor with a pained grunt, squirming as he tried to get himself out of the demon's grasp and free the arm that still held Ruby's knife. The demon used its free hand to strike Dean viciously in the face while the hunter was pinned on the ground. Sam made it to his feet just as the demon was pulling back for its second blow and any thoughts of doing this the old fashioned way went out the window when he caught sight of his brother's head reeling as blood trickled from his nose. He raised his arm and reached his mind out to the evil inside the man, grabbing it and pulling it free of its meat suit with a ruthless yank. He twitched his wrist slightly as he did so, eliciting a scream of agony from the demon before the black smoke poured out of its mouth and disappeared into the floor. The man slumped to the ground next to the body of the one Dean had killed with the knife.

Dean staggered to his feet, a dark scowl on his face. "We weren't supposed to waste both of them," he spat with no trace of appreciation. "We needed one to spread the word to come after us."

Sam's mouth hung open for a second as he gaped at his brother in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" he said incredulously, anger rising within him. _You're fucking welcome, Dean_.

Dean moved on down the hall stiffly, not looking back at his brother. "They need to know who we are so we can get them to chase us, Sam," he said sternly. "We need to clear the gym for Josh and Colby. So for now, unless you think you can kill _all_ of them_, just get their attention_!"

It was clear from his tone Dean didn't think Sam could kill all of the demon guards. Or more likely that he didn't _want_ him to be able to kill them all or didn't think he should even if he could. Sam gritted his teeth in frustration but decided not to bother arguing. He hated that he had been forced to use his powers in front of his brother again for the second time in two days. Every time he did it, he could feel the wedge between them ramming itself deeper. It didn't seem to matter that he had just saved Dean's life. Not to Dean anyway.

"Come on," Dean barked, still walking stiffly in front of him. "We gotta find another couple of demons to spread the word. Fast."

Finding more demons didn't prove to be too difficult. It seemed the shotgun blasts had managed to get the attention of the guards after all and the brothers found two more rushing towards them as they rounded the very next corner.

In typical Dean fashion, the elder hunter didn't hesitate before lunging at the front one with Ruby's knife. This time, however, he was unable to sink the blade into the demon's chosen meatsuit and was instead sent flying against a wall of lockers by a powerful backhand, the knife clattering to the floor. Sam scooped it up without breaking his stride and succeeded where his brother had failed, ramming the blade hilt-deep into the demon's gut. Ignoring the flashing lights signaling the demon's demise, he turned sharply to the second one, who was springing forward for his own attack on the hunter. Sam flung his hand out towards him but didn't follow up with the full force of his power. Instead he gave the demon just enough to stop his advance, enough to cause him to grasp at his throat. The man's eyes widened in fear as he looked wildly at Sam.

"That's right," Sam said coldly. "It's Sam Winchester." He released his hold on the demon, who was suddenly gasping for air and taking slow steps backwards. "I suggest you rethink attacking me and my brother," he warned, his glare turning into a slight smirk when the demon spun and ran back down the hallway.

Sam turned to Dean, extending an arm to help the winded and battered hunter up off the floor. "Is that what you had in mind?" He didn't manage to keep the slight trace of a gloating tone from his voice.

Dean swallowed as he took the offered hand, sickened by the sight of his brother toying with demons while using their own powers. It bothered him that it was Sam's identity that had stricken the demon with fear, not his. His little brother, with those puppy eyes and disheveled shaggy hair, should never be considered anyone's bogeyman, even a demon's. But he was grudgingly confident that Sam's ploy would do the trick. Every spare demon would soon know the Winchesters were here and would surely be headed this way.

He gave Sam a scowl, not willing to condone further use of the kid's power even if it had just saved his life twice. "Can we just try and stick to the human weapons, please?" he snapped, regretting the words as he was saying them. There was a good chance they were both gonna die here and he didn't want words of anger to be the last things he said to his brother. He sighed, seeing the hurt and unmistakable anger pass swiftly across Sam's features. "Let's just do this like Winchesters, okay?" he added, more softly.

Sam gave his brother a long look, a swirling mass of thoughts and feelings spinning around in his head, none of them good. But, like the John Winchester copy that Dean had accused him of being, he voiced none of them. Instead he wordlessly handed his brother Ruby's knife back, fighting to keep his anger, impatience, and frustration from his face.

He didn't have to bite his tongue very long for it was only about twenty seconds before four demons came running around the corner towards them.

"Oh shit," Dean swore, skidding to a halt and tugging at Sam's sleeve. "Time to run, dude," he whispered urgently. "We gotta get them as far from the gym as we can."

Sam hadn't had any of Ruby's blood in over twenty-four hours and was feeling the effects of taking out even that first demon in the previous hallway. He didn't think he could take all four at once and still protect Dean so he gave his brother a quick nod and turned to run with him down the hall, back in the direction they had come. The four demons gave chase, as expected.

They raced around a couple of corners but realized the demons were gaining on them. Since they only had four on their tail, both brothers also realized they would have to cause a bit more trouble to attract more. They simultaneously skidded to a halt and Dean immediately moved to shoulder a locked door marked 'Laboratory 114'. It swung open with a loud crack and the hunters dashed inside, slamming it shut behind them and quickly salting the threshold.

Within seconds the demons were pounding on the door.

Okay, now what?" Dean asked.

Sam gave him an exasperated huff. "I don't know," he said. "This was your brilliant plan, remember?"

Dean threw his brother a sheepish look. "Okay then," he shrugged, adopting his cocky, reckless grin as he moved towards the door. He flung it open and fired a salt round from his shotgun, hitting the front demon square in the chest. She flew backwards and another took her place, snarling at the hunter over the still unbroken line of salt.

Dean fired a round in his chest also, laughing as his eyes went black and he too fell to the floor. A third stepped over him. "I can keep this up all night," Dean taunted, firing again.

"Do we look that stupid, Winchester?" the third snarled through the doorway, having dodged the shotgun blast. "You've got three, maybe four shots left. Then what? We'll get past this measly line of salt eventually."

Dean swallowed, glancing back at Sam, who was filling a sink with water and dipping in his rosary, muttering Latin words half under his breath as he did so. Dean smirked. "You think we can't take out four grunts like you?" he goaded.

The demon in the doorway actually laughed, sparing a sideways look down the hallway. "Try ten," he fired back as more demons suddenly appeared in the hallway behind him.

"That should just about do it," Dean muttered under his breath, sticking his hand in his pocket to press Josh's speedial button as the signal that the coast should be clear and for him and Colby to go ahead. He hung up quickly and fired another round at the doorway. Diversion successful.

_Now how the Hell were he and Sam gonna get out of this one?_

SPN-SPN-SPN

Colby and Josh didn't have to wait long before they heard gunshots from the direction Sam and Dean had gone. They kept a close eye on the demons at the doors in their vicinity though, and none of them moved. A minute later, however, a demon rushed down the hallway they were hiding in, sliding to a halt at the corner and calling to some unseen demons. "It's the Winchesters! They're here!"

Within seconds, five demons had joined the first and they all ran off towards the gunfire. Josh's heart skipped a beat with fear for his friends but he nudged Colby's arm as the cowboy peeked around the corner. "We clear?" he asked.

"As clear as we're ever gonna be," Colby replied moving forward. The younger hunter paused at the corner, turning back to Josh and handing him the crossbow. "You know how to use this?"

"Of course," Josh scoffed, though in truth he had only learned how last year when Lexie had insisted on teaching him after Dean had shown her how to shoot one in Indiana.

"Well, you take it. I'll distract the demons still in there and hold them off while you shoot the four monsters, 'kay?"

Josh frowned. "Why you givin' me the easy job?" he accused. "You're as bad as the fucking Winchesters. I am perfectly capable, you know."

Colby pointed to the blood on Josh's t-shirt where all the recent movement had partially opened Ella's stab wound again. "It's not that we don't think you got skills, dawg," he placated, "but you ain't exactly runnin' at a hundred percent."

The blond man gritted his teeth slightly but didn't argue. He couldn't deny he was in rough shape after being vampire-kibble, Ella's pin-cushion, and most recently, a punching bag for Dean. He could hardly hold it against the three experienced hunters that they had noticed.

"Besides," Colby added with a lopsided smile, "I ain't explainin' to your sis how we let you get your ass killed. You're the only one of us with any family left that needs lookin' after."

Josh refrained from pointing out that he wasn't able to look after his sister if he didn't know where she was since that situation wasn't Colby's doing. He felt his cell vibrate in his pocket and gestured for them to keep moving, knowing they didn't have any time to waste on appeasing his ego. "Alright, Cole," he agreed. "We'll do it your way."

Josh pulled out his Glock from his waistband. It was loaded with silver bullets for the wolf and the shapeshifter. He tapped a Beretta still tucked in his jeans, which was loaded with consecrated iron for the shritga, and took the crossbow from Colby. He'd actually enjoy emptying these babies into Ivan, he thought ruefully. After his encounter with Ty, Josh had decided he definitely wasn't feeling the love when it came to vampires.

Colby looked pleased and they stole quickly down the now-empty hallway towards the double doors leading to the gymnasium. The Texan spread a thin line of salt across the threshold before readying the two shotguns he was now holding. He gave Josh a curt nod before turning the knob sharply and shoving open one of the doors.

They charged in shoulder to shoulder, each making quick assessments of the situation. Besides the four beings in the circles, there were four other people remaining in the large room, presumably demons. One was standing in the center chanting and he neither flinched nor faltered when the hunters barged in but the other three jumped and quickly came at them. The hunters moved swiftly to avoid the chance of being flung against a wall if one of the demons had the mojo. Colby aimed the first shotgun and started shooting at the closest demon.

Josh started with the crossbow since Ivan was the closest, firing all of the arrows in rapid succession at the restrained vampire and hitting his writhing mark with ten out of eleven. He ignored Ivan's furious bellowing before dropping the crossbow and aiming the silver-loaded Glock at the young girl Sam had identified as Kim, a.k.a. the shapeshifter. He fired center-mass until she dropped to the ground, cursing inwardly that she and the others weren't in their monster forms as it twisted his stomach in knots him to be shooting what looked like innocent civilians, especially a pretty young girl. He swung the pistol towards the unknown male they had assumed was the werewolf and started firing. The guy hadn't made any attempt to move away and out of his painted circle, a weak and drained expression on his face. It would seem the ritual wasn't an easy process for its participants. TFB. That just made his job easier.

Colby, on the other hand, was having a hard time taking on three demons. He had stepped in front of Josh to allow him time to kill the ritual participants but the shotgun wasn't really holding the demons at bay. He splashed the closest one with holy water before taking a powerful hit from the second that sent him reeling six feet backwards onto the floor. Josh saw him go down but held his ground, emptying the rest of the clip of silver into the werewolf and swiftly pulling out the Beretta with the iron rounds.

Colby was back on his feet within seconds, splashing holy water at the demons again and dodging blows as best he could. He took another couple of hard hits as Josh killed the shritga that was cowering within the painted lines in the form of the old lady he had met the previous day.

The demon in the middle was still chanting as Josh took down the fourth 'embodiment' of Netiran. "That's them all!" the blond man called to Colby, who was pulling himself off the wall he'd just been slammed up against by a demon. Josh fired the gun in his hand at a female demon that got past Colby and was now charging him but it had little effect and she reached him swinging. He planted a fist in the demon's face but was nevertheless thrown in the air, landing just inside Ivan's circle with a hard thump.

"Let's go!" Colby shouted, though he was in no position to obey his own order as two demons were taking turns slamming him into the wall. Colby struggled but managed to bring the shotgun barrel up and pull the trigger inches from the chest of the closest demon who backed off, howling in pain.

Josh scrambled to his feet, determined to dodge past the female demon lining up to kick him in the gut, reach Colby, and get the Hell out of here but a heavy chain suddenly wrapped around his neck from behind and he was yanked backwards. His hands instinctively grabbed at the metal choking him and he squirmed his way out of the hold before it could tighten enough to pin him down. He spared a glance backwards, cursing himself for not remembering dead man's blood could take up to a minute or so to work.

All three of the other hunters had dealt with vampires before and all three had insisted even five of the arrows completely soaked in dead man's blood that he had fired into Ivan would be enough to kill him, or at least render him harmless. Josh had landed ten but as he rolled to his knees and met Ivan's seething gaze, he realized they hadn't even begun to work. Ivan was on his feet with his fangs out and his bicep muscles rippling. _Was he still feeling the effects of drinking Sam's blood?_

The female demon stopped short just outside Ivan's circle, leaving Josh momentarily untouched in the small strip of space between her and the far extent of Ivan's chains. Josh wasn't particularly comforted by the fact that she wouldn't step inside the circle but was glad for the temporary reprieve it gave him to get back on his feet.

Ivan bared his teeth at Josh. "You shot me with dead man's blood you puss-filled cretan!" he hissed. "It seems I'm immune now but that still hurt like Hell. I'm gonna rip your beating heart out of your chest if it's the last thing I do!"

"Not likely, Fido," Josh spat back, glancing mockingly at the chains before turning again to keep his eye on the female. He could see Colby about thirty feet away, thankfully back on his feet and standing over a demon he had pinned on its knees. The cowboy was pressing a rosary hard onto the demon's steaming face and speaking very fast in Latin, his Texan drawl somehow finding its way into the exorcism.

Josh noticed the demon in the middle of the room was still standing calmly, seemingly oblivious that three of the four necessary participants for the ritual were dead. At that very moment, however, it stopped its chanting. It looked directly at Josh and started to laugh. The female demon nearby swung her head back and forth between the middle demon and the blond man, clearly not sure herself what was going on.

"What are you laughing at?" Josh sneered, thinking to himself that he must be spending too much time with Dean to be back-talking in their disadvantageous position. "Your ritual's screwed, Pal! Your buddies are dead." He jerked his thumb at the three slumped bodies in the other circles.

The middle demon stopped laughing but continued to smile at him. "You're too late," it snarled. "He's coming!"

Josh was unable to hide the uncertainty and worry from his face.

"The transference of our Lord's embodiments was already completed," the demon continued smugly. "He only needs one alive to enter a circle and he's on his way this very moment!" The demon's eyes went pure black and a look of pure elation blanketed his face.

Josh processed the words as quickly as he could. _Only needed one alive_. Crap, that meant Ivan had to die too. If the dead man's blood wasn't working, then he would have to chop the vampire's head off.

He reached inside his thin jacket and pulled out the fourteen-inch dagger he had borrowed from Sam and Dean. He spun around to face Ivan, relieved that the super-powered vamp was fairly tightly shackled.

"Don't even think about it," Ivan warned him, eyeing the dagger with more anger than fear.

Josh didn't bother with a smartass remark; he simply lunged.

He never reached Ivan. At that very instant there was a blinding flash of light from within the circle right next to him and he felt a massive blast of force hit him full-on before everything went black.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**May 2009**_ _(a few days before Josh gets out of jail)..._

From his vantage point in the bottom of the dark pit, Bobby could only see Alex from the shoulders up, holding the handgun out in front of her. He couldn't see what, or who, she was pointing it at. But she was talking and so for now, since climbing out didn't seem likely, he listened with bated breath.

Alex had felt a sensation while snapping a quick photo of Bobby in the hole as ammunition for future teasing. Not really a familiar sensation - not a demon or a ghost or a Red-Eyes sensation - but a freak mojo type sensation all the same. She jumped up and whirled around to see a man approaching with a shotgun, barrel leveled at her chest. She instinctively drew her own weapon to not be at a disadvantage, realizing belatedly how the move could have goaded him into firing before she had hers drawn.

But he didn't fire. Instead he was staring at her intently. He looked about forty but it was hard to tell past the full, scraggly beard and hunting cap he was wearing. She guessed this was Ross Wilson but couldn't explain the workout her mojo was currently getting. She had been under the understanding Ross was human.

"What are you?" he demanded gruffly, jabbing the shotgun towards her.

"My name is Alex Brenton," she answered, making sure neither fear nor aggression was evident in her voice until she could better assess the situation. "Are you Ross Wilson?"

"I said _what_, not _who_!" he shouted angrily, ignoring her query.

It occurred to her that this guy must have a mojo of his own and was evidently feeling something from Alex's presence. She had to admit, although she was feeling a tingle, there was no pain. Nothing malevolent or sinister or evil like she usually felt around supernatural beings. It wasn't a good feeling, like the angel Castiel had been, but she could hardly classify the sensation as bad. She wondered if Ross felt the same way. Ruby had once told her that she had felt a tingly sensation when Alex was around.

"I'm human, I'm human," she assured him hurriedly, not wanting to get a chest full of rock-salt, or worse. "I can feel you too," she added, lowering the gun as a gesture of good will and tapping her temple. "I'm the same as you."

The impact of her own words hit her like a splash of cold water. _The same as you._ Not only was this guy living with the constant shadow of Red-Eyes looming over him, but he had what seemed to be the same freak mojo. _He was the same as her_. She heard a hiss from down the hole and spared a glance downwards at Bobby as she tucked the Rami back in her jeans.

"Don't lower your weapon," the older hunter admonished in a whispered growl.

She gave him a placating wag of the hand, returning her attention to the guy, who was still aiming the shotgun at her from about fifteen feet away. "I'm a sensitive," she continued, using the lamens term for people who were especially receptive to paranormal entities. The guy didn't answer. "I'm guessing you are too," she pressed, getting anxious to have him drop the gun, or at least stop the twitching of his finger hovering over the trigger. "I'm here to ask you some questions about Red-Eyes. You know, the sadistic bastard with the glowing red eyes. I hear you know him…the same way I know him."

Ross, for she was fairly certain it was indeed Ross Wilson standing before her, froze at the mention of Red-Eyes. "What do you mean you know him?" he stammered. His eyes narrowed. "You mean you're a hunter or a hunter's girlfriend and you heard of him and decided he's the next monster you're going after," he accused. "But you don't really know him."

"No, I know him," she repeated, taking a step forward. "Trust me, I've known him since I was five and I've been running from him for eight years. I don't want to run anymore so I need to know what you know."

Her bluntness seemed to throw him off for a few seconds and he lowered the gun slightly to look at her over the barrel rather than down it. "He comes after you too?" he finally managed.

She just nodded. She had known he wouldn't turn her away as he had Ellen, not if he knew they were the same. He had to have felt far more alienated and 'different' than she ever had because as far as she could tell, he had nobody. He didn't have a Josh. Or even a Bobby. "Can we talk?"

Ross was frowning and clearly did not like having people around his hideout. Alex could see a tiny shack on the far edge of the clearing, so small and ramshackle looking that she couldn't consider it anything but a shack, certainly not a cabin or a cottage. "What if he followed you here?" he growled.

"He didn't," she replied confidently. "I've been off his radar for a month now, I swear. No phone calls, no personal emails, no video cameras."

"You try go after him, he's just gonna kill you," Ross warned.

"Not if I can find a sure way to kill him first. Look, I won't involve you, I promise," she almost pleaded. "I just need whatever information you can give me."

Finally, he lowered the shotgun to waist height. "Okay," he relented, jerking his thumb towards the shack. "I'll show you what I got."

Alex smiled. "Awesome," she said. "Now, can I borrow a rope so my friend can get out of your well?"

The shotgun snapped back up. "No," he barked, the anger and fear returning. "Just you can come."

He certainly was distrustful. "He's human too," Alex argued, not wanting to leave Bobby down there. "Not a demon, I swear."

"I know he's not demon," Ross answered testily. "That's holy water in the bottom of that pit. He'd be screaming if he was demon. There's two dozen other pits just like it all around here. Can't be too careful when bad things are drawn to you," he said, tapping his temple to indicate his psychic sense.

"It's frigging _cold_ holy water!" Bobby yelled up the hole.

"Please Ross," Alex pleaded. This guy was seriously paranoid. "He's my friend."

The stubborn man shook his head firmly. "No."

She peered apologetically down the hole. "You be okay for a few minutes, Bobby?"

"Don't even think about going anywhere with him, Lex," Bobby hissed in reply.

"I'll be fine," she placated. "I'll be as quick as I can. And I'll get you a rope or a ladder or something, I promise."

With that she nodded to Ross and followed his gesture towards the shack. He fell in behind her, the shotgun now lowered to his side.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**June 2009**_

Dean gave the window a thoughtful once-over. Sure there were bars on it but they were just thin metal strips and could easily be removed. They were on the first floor so it was probably their best option. They'd hole up here for another few minutes to give Josh and Colby enough time to do their job and get out of Dodge and then he and Sam would jump out the window.

The demon who seemed to be in charge of the unruly pack pacing behind the salt line at the only door stepped back. Dean could see him waving his arm and calling to someone at the far end of the hallway. _Crap,_ he thought. _More reinforcements? How many more demons were there? _He stood holding the shotgun steadily aimed at the door.

Sam had prepared a sink-full of holy water and was now drawing Devil's Traps all over the floor in chalk. "Good thinking, Sammy," Dean said, wanting badly to say something nice to his brother before that salt line got broken.

"Well you're right, Dean" Sam answered quietly. "I can't take them all on. Not today."

_Not today? What in the Hell did that mean?_ Dean didn't ask. He never asked. He preferred to just not talk about it.

Sam continued, still drawing on the floor. "This will at least make it harder for them if they do get in." He paused when the door flew open and Dean fired a round before kicking it shut again. "We goin' out the window?"

Dean nodded, double checking the salt line before heading over to the window again to get the flimsy bars out of the way. He was ramming the heel of the shotgun into a rivet anchoring the bars in when a fist appeared from outside, reaching through the bars and wrapping itself in his shirtfront. It gave a sharp yank, pulling him downwards and smacking his face into the bars.

He grunted in pain as he twirled the shotgun around in his hands, awkwardly aiming it out the window and pulling the trigger. The hand released him and he jerked backwards, landing on the floor inside the school lab. He was about to shout to Sam that the window may no longer be an option when the door flew open again and a vaguely familiar-looking man stepped up to the salt line, brushing it away casually with his foot before stepping back.

"Oh shit," Dean swore, rolling to his feet to get to his younger brother's side before the demons charged in. He didn't quite make it but the two demons that lunged for Sam first stopped short about four feet from his brother. At first Dean thought Sam was using his mojo but let out a sharp hoot of glee when he realized they had run right into one of the chalk Devil's Traps Sam had drawn on the floor.

His merriment didn't last long, however, when the next two did make it past a gap in the line of Devil's Traps and headed right for him. He had Ruby's knife in his hand and sank it into the neck of the front one, a young man built like a linebacker. But his luck was also short-lived and the demon in a suit right behind the linebacker threw a fist in his face and pried Ruby's knife out of his hand while he was clearing the blurry spots from his vision and trying to suck some air back into his lungs.

Sam was going to hold off using his powers with Dean there for as long a she could but knew that wouldn't be long the way the demons were rushing through the doorway in single file. He was about to throw holy water at a couple that suddenly stopped of their own accord, trapped inside the Devil's Traps he had drawn on the floor. He threw them a smirk before turning to challenge the next two, who were warily stepping around the last of the chalked lines. He splashed holy water in the face of the first one and landed a fierce punch in his face, knocking him to the ground. The second one blocked his next punch, however, and landed one in Sam's gut.

Okay, that was long enough. Sam uncurled himself from around the guy's fist and pushed him away, raising his hand and reaching out to connect with the evil inside the demon. Within seconds he was yanking it out, a swirl of black smoke billowing that came out of its mouth. He made quick work of forcing it downwards, towards that invisible, undefined shape he had identified as some sort of doorway that seemed to open up whenever he had a sonofabitch he wanted to throw back in the pit.

He looked up just in time to see a demon in a suit grab Dean from behind and bring Ruby's knife up to the hunter's throat.

"No!" Sam screamed, throwing his fist forward. A female demon stepped between him and the one holding his brother. She held her hand up and Sam felt her fighting back at him with demon powers, forcing him to switch his attention to her.

"Wait, wait," she coughed in sudden panic, her powers clearly far inferior to his. The large demon next to her addressed Sam.

"You back down, Winchester, or your brother dies!" he barked. Sam hesitated and the demon continued speaking. "It'll take one second to slit his throat," he warned, stepping aside so Sam could see Dean. The demon with the suit had him pinned, held back against his chest with his heightened demon strength. Ruby's blade was pressed against his throat and Sam swallowed hard when a trickle of blood ran down Dean's neck, soaking into the neckline of his t-shirt.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap: Well, the next chap makes this one seem like a cake walk :)_


	16. Welcome to the Freakshow

_"You back down, Winchester, or your brother dies!" the demon barked. "It'll take one second to slit his throat." The demon with the suit had Dean pinned, held back against his chest with his heightened demon strength. Ruby's blade was pressed against his throat and Sam swallowed hard when a trickle of blood ran down Dean's neck, soaking into the neckline of his t-shirt._

_**Chapter 16**__** – **__**Welcome to the Freakshow**_

_**June 2009**_

"You hurt him and I'll kill all of you!" Sam bluffed, freezing in place as the demons spread out in front of him, all eyeing him with open hostility but none venturing any closer. "You know I can do it," he seethed, looking around at them all with a convincingly threatening glare. In all honesty, however, the young hunter highly doubted that he could. He counted twelve demons in all, including the two that were stuck in the Devil's Traps and the one that was holding the knife to Dean's throat. The non-demon that had broken the salt line had disappeared, thankfully, as Sam didn't know what manner of monster he had been and was fairly sure his demon powers only worked on demons.

"Let him go!" he ordered coldly, still holding out his arm towards the demon threatening his brother.

"Now where's my incentive to do that?" the demon sneered, tightening his hold on Dean as the elder hunter struggled to break free from his grasp.

Dean grunted his frustration and pulled at the incredibly strong arm around his neck but only succeeded in causing the demon to pull the blade closer. He could feel the sting of the steel breaking the skin and the trickle of warm blood down his neck and decided staying still may be a better option. He paused his physical efforts to concentrate on trying to think a way out of this one - preferably a way out that wouldn't involve Sammy watching his big brother die again. Kid had definitely done enough of that.

Sam looked confident in his threats. Dean had no idea if his brother could actually take on a dozen or so demons at once but really didn't want to find out. Sam had killed Alistair and according to Cas, he had done it without even breaking a sweat. Alistair had been an extremely powerful demon, one who had defeated Cas twice. If Sam could take him out, then it stood to reason that, relatively speaking, the kid was more powerful that Cas. It was just a different kind of power. The wrong kind.

Dean had to blink to make sure he wasn't seeing things when the angel in the beige  
trench coat suddenly appeared standing amidst the demons. It seemed way too freaky that he had just been thinking about him and there he was, but a good squint confirmed Castiel was indeed there. The demons nearest him jumped away, startled by his sudden arrival.

"Welcome to the freakshow," Dean muttered under his breath. Never before had he been so glad to see his blue-eyed nerd-angel.

Cas turned to face the demon holding Ruby's knife on Dean. "Let him go," he said flatly but with a definite threatening edge in his deep voice.

Dean felt a shot of fear jolt through the man pressed up behind him but wasn't able to derive any satisfaction from the demon's displeasure as it resulted in the dude tightening his hold and repositioning the knife higher to cut slightly into the soft skin in the crease between the hunter's chin and his neck. Ignoring his extreme discomfort and the substantial humiliation he was feeling for being entirely helpless, Dean managed to speak, his words grating past the pressure of the blade.

"Just waste 'em all, Cas!" he hissed.

The order seemed to be taken as a challenge because two demons suddenly lunged for Castiel. The angel sidestepped the attack in an almost casual manner and brought his hand up to clamp over the face of the closest demon, sending him screaming to his knees as orange lights streamed out of his eyes and mouth. Sam didn't wait to see what the demons would do next; he immediately jerked his outstretched hand, sending a wall of his power straight at the demon wrapped around his brother.

The demon gasped and convulsed slightly before sailing backwards and slamming into the wall behind Dean. Though the arm with the blade jerked away from his neck, it sliced a decent sized cut along his collarbone before it fell from the demon's grasp. Ignoring the sting and the familiar scent of his own blood, Dean immediately dropped to his knees and made a grab for the knife. His fingers were inches away from its hilt when a demon planted a kick in his gut, lifting his hands and knees off the ground with the sheer force. He gasped for breath as he rolled away and scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, grabbing the knife as he did so.

Sam made quick work of the demon he had peeled away from Dean, making sure it was a particularly agonizing death for the son of a bitch. His inner voice told him he shouldn't waste the extra energy on making the demon suffer and definitely shouldn't waste the extra energy on killing instead of just exorcising but he ignored it, his anger and hatred winning out. This one, at least, was going to regret threatening his brother. When the man's body slumped to the ground at the base of the wall he quickly picked another and refocused. This time it was the woman who had tried unsuccessfully to use her mojo on him. She was the closest and since he could feel her starting to focus again on him, she was the biggest threat.

Castiel never took his eyes off the first demon he was killing as he stuck his other hand out behind him and grabbed the second one that had charged him by the front of the shirt, holding him in place until the life had left the first one. He then turned his hard stare on the second unfortunate, struggling demon and positioned his hand on its face. The demon managed a terrified, whimpering plea of "please, no, please," before he too was taken out with an internal burst of orange sparks. Cas dropped him, his face impassive, and looked around for his next target, his blue eyes darting to his left to check on his charge while he did so.

Dean was on his feet, knife in hand, but was having a hard time sinking it into the demon he was fighting between successive punches that kept slamming him against the wall. The hunter's eyes were starting to glaze and there was blood streaming from his nose and his collarbone. Cas took a step towards him but was stopped by a fist bouncing off his jaw. He turned to see a demon wincing in pain, its eyes widening as it realized the angel was basically impervious to its punches. Cas moved quickly, striking the demon down then slamming his own fist into its face, pausing briefly to kill the demon inhabiting the human body as he stood over it.

Sam finished off the female, her host's body crumpling to the ground as the jet of black smoke spiraled its way down into the terrazine floor. He didn't even bother to glance in her direction for signs of life because a small, weasly-looking demon had just landed a fist in his gut. He sucked in a raspy breath and threw some mojo at the little guy, stopping him where he stood.

Dean cursed as the knife was once again ripped from his grasp. His eyes were still seeing dancing blotches from being slammed into the wall when he felt a strong hand wrap around his throat, immobilizing him. _Shit!_ Sam and Cas were taking demons out like they were at a turkey shoot and he was getting his ass kicked by just one. A nerdy-looking one at that. He kicked out at his captor, the panic of having his air supply cut off threatening to overcome him any second now.

Cas strode over to Dean quickly, grabbing the offending demon by the shirt collar and bringing his other hand around to the demon's chin, pulling it back and snapping its neck around with a sickening crack. As the demon struggled to repair the damage to its meat-suit, eyes rolling and head bobbing, the angel brought his hand back up to its face and killed him angel-style.

Dean's vision cleared enough for him to see the last of the swirling lights and Castiel's satisfied nod before the angel turned his urgent blue eyes on him. "Are you alright?" Cas asked earnestly.

Dean just nodded, unable to speak just yet as his lungs were monopolizing his throat in their efforts to suck some much-needed air back in. He remained leaning up against the wall for a second, a concerned wrinkle appearing between Cas's brows as the angel studied him quietly. Cas was standing a tad too close; close enough that had it been anyone else, Dean would have considered it creepy. The intensity of the angel's gaze, his blue eyes fixed on the hunter as if Dean being alright was the only thing in the world that mattered, caught him off guard. Any other day, Dean would have verbalized his discomfort, lecturing the angel on the boundaries of personal space and acceptable 'dudes' behavior. But today, after Cas had kicked some serious demon ass to save his hide, Dean decided to give him a pass. Just this once.

"You need to go," Cas said finally, taking a step away and turning to face yet another demon coming at them. "Now."

Dean pushed himself off the wall and looked past Cas to see Sam taking out his third demon, a weasly little guy with a moustache. "Not without Sam," he croaked, bending to pick up Ruby's knife again as Cas grappled with the demon.

A swirl of black smoke escaped the small man's body and Sam looked up, his eyes searching out his brother. Dean couldn't help but notice the kid was swaying on his feet and sweating profusely. He'd seen enough; he had to get Sam out of here before he collapsed from demon-mojo drainage or something. That wasn't how Sam was going to go, not if Dean had anything to do with it.

"Sam!" he called over, moving around Cas and the two demons the angel was now fighting and taking stock of the situation. There were still five demons on their feet. Two of them were in Devil's Traps and two of them were currently scrambling to avoid the lethal palm of the angel in the trench coat. The last one was near the back of the room, eyeing them all warily and apparently trying to decide which of them would be the easiest target.

Sam was feeling woozy. He hadn't gone to see Ruby last night so he hadn't been properly fueled up before attempting a kill. That kill and the subsequent exorcisms had left him drained. The female with the bit of mojo had been a particularly difficult pull. He heard Dean call his name and looked up to see his brother heading towards him. He took a few steps in Dean's direction before pausing to steady himself. He blinked but it must have been in slow motion because suddenly Dean was at his side, hooking his shoulder up under Sam's arm and leading him towards the door. Crap, why was the room spinning?

The indecisive demon made up its mind. He must have seen that Sam was unsteady on his feet and figured him for an easy target because he lunged at the brothers, fists flying.

He never made it. Dean decided Cas must have eyes in the back of his head because the angel suddenly appeared in between the demon and its prey, stepping away from the two demons he had been fighting nearby. The demon ceased its attack immediately, deciding instead to scrape a break in the chalked Devil's traps still holding two of the demons prisoner.

"You two need to leave the building, now," Cas said over his shoulder without turning around. The door was behind Dean and Sam and all five demons were on the far side of Cas, who stood his ground facing them all with his back to the brothers.

"What about you?" Dean asked worriedly, reluctant to abandon his friend.

"I'll manage," Cas said flatly.

"The ritual," Sam rasped, his voice hoarse. "It's in the gym." They could hear the unmistakable noise of gunfire coming from the direction of the gym.

"You're too late," one of the demons gloated. "Netiran's on his way."

"Hear those shots asshole?" Dean fired back. "That's the end of your monster choir."

"I believe it _is_ too late, Dean," Cas cut him off, his arms slightly outstretched as if to shield the hunters behind him. "So just go. Now."

Dean hesitated, his heart lurching. If they were too late then that meant things wouldn't be going well for the other hunters. "Our friends are in the gym," he stammered.

"Your friends are probably dead," Cas fired back, his impatience staring to show. He wasn't sure how much longer the demons would be content with banter and taunting before they decided to attack again. This time it would be five to three and neither Sam nor Dean were in any shape to make it through another rumble. Cas could hold them off while the Winchesters escaped but he was weakened by using his powers to take out four already so transporting (as Dean called it) the brothers out of here was not really an option at this point. "I can manage here. Just go."

Dean made up his mind. "Fine," he consented, worried about the angel but deciding to take him on his word that he could 'manage'. Sam had pulled away from Dean by now and with some effort, was staying upright, colour starting to seep back into his face. Dean didn't want him to use his mojo again and if that meant leaving Cas here to fend for himself, he would do it. He hated it, but he would do it. Sam would always come first.

"Kick their asses, Cas," he said simply.

They backed towards the door, watching the intense staring match between angel and demons as they slipped through it. It slammed shut with a loud bang as soon as they stepped back into the hallway. Dean leapt forward to peer through the window to see Cas throw one demon across the room while grabbing another one that was going for the door by the hair, jerking it back and slamming its back down on his bent knee.

"Way to go Cas," he breathed, impressed. He had only seen the angel fight once before and that had been against Alistair when they had all come for Anna. Cas had lost that fight in mere seconds. He turned to Sam. "Dude, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sam lied, feeling pissed and a bit guilty he couldn't help Cas out like he had with Alistair. "What did he mean by it's too late?" he frowned, taking slow steps down the hallway as Dean tugged at his arm to get moving.

"I don't know, but we're gonna find out," Dean answered him, his face set in a worried scowl.

"To the gym?" Sam asked, not really needing a reply. He knew Dean wasn't going to leave after Castiel's blunt comment about their friends probably already being dead. Not without making sure, anyway.

"Damn right," Dean said, speeding up into a jog and keeping an eye on Sam to be sure the younger hunter was keeping up. "We gotta check on Josh and Colby."

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**May 2009**_

Ross Wilson's place seemed even smaller on the interior than it had appeared from the outside. Alex stepped inside followed by the nervous older man who, although still holding the rifle, had at least lowered it to his side.

The shack was one room of about eight feet by twelve. There was a single bunk on one end and an old woodstove with a burner on top at the other end. A small table with a wooden chair and a well-used armchair were pushed against the side wall and a small thirteen inch TV sat on a shelf to the left of the door. Alex couldn't imagine living here all alone year-round and found herself feeling an incredible amount of pity for Ross. No wonder he had no social skills.

Ross closed the door behind him and moved immediately to the small bureau at the foot of the bed, opening the bottom cupboard door and grasping a stack of loose sheets of paper. He came back to the table and slapped them on its surface, stealing very quick glances at Alex but never holding her gaze. "This is everything," he announced, stepping back and putting his hands on his hips.

Alex eagerly picked up the papers, squinting in concentration when she realized they were all handwritten and Ross's penmanship was even worse than most doctors. She flipped through them trying to make sense of the scribbles.

"Can you walk me through these?" she asked politely.

Ross huffed a little impatiently and didn't reply but Alex waited him out. She sat herself in the chair in an effort to put him at ease and eventually he sat down also, sinking stiffly into the armchair.

"Which part?" he asked.

Alex passed him the papers. "Why don't you start at the beginning?" she suggested. "I need to know everything, any piece of information or even a hunch you have about who and what Red-Eyes is."

"Fine," Ross nodded. "I guess my first lead was when he mentioned being from Cimmeria." Ross paused.

"He told you where he was from?" Alex prompted. "He wasn't really one for long conversations with me," she added.

"Me neither," Ross admitted. "I was living in Vancouver and it was just an off the cuff remark about how he hated the dreary Vancouver weather because it reminded him of his homeland of Cimmeria. So I started researching Cimmeria. Most references I found implied it was a fictional place until I started looking into some ancient Greek texts. Homer even mentioned it once."

"Homer? What, Simpson?" Alex gave him a confused look.

Ross gave her a blank look before continuing. "No, Homer, the Greek poet," he deadpanned. He went on to explain everything he had found out, getting more relaxed as he kept talking. Alex soaked it all up, intrigued, only interrupting to ask the occasional question. She and Bobby would have to check out Ross's theories but they definitely seemed plausible. They accounted for why everything Alex had tried to kill or trap Red-Eyes with hadn't worked. Unfortunately though, they didn't offer any suggestions for what _would_ work.

"That's because he can't be killed," Ross insisted when she said as much. "And you shouldn't even try."

"I have to," Alex answered. "I'm not running anymore. I just spent three and a half months locked in a psych facility where he came every day. I'm not risking that again."

"Oh. That must have been terrible," he sympathized.

"Yeah, pretty much. A psychic told a friend of mine about Red-Eyes being able to tap into and manipulate video and audio feeds so I should be able to stay off his radar, but even so, I don't want my brother to have to live on the run for the rest of his life."

"Huh. So you drag your brother with you?" Ross's words held a harsh, accusing tone.

Alex swallowed with sudden discomfort. "He broke me out of the nuthouse when I was seventeen," she defended. "They put a warrant out for his arrest. We were both running."

"Is that him out there in my pit?" Ross pointed out his small, front window.

"No, that's Bobby, a friend. My brother Josh is in jail. They caught up with him in Texas."

Ross gave her a hard stare. "So when he gets out, he's clear then. You gonna drag him back in with you?"

Eight years of guilt flooded through Alex as she stammered, unable to answer.

"Trust me," Ross said coldly. "If you love your brother you'll stay as far away from him as possible."

Now it was Alex's turn to avoid Ross's gaze. "Yeah, I know," she said quietly. It wasn't as if the thought hadn't occurred to her a thousand times.

"Do you?" Ross was quiet for a moment. His discomfort at having a stranger in his secluded home seemed to have morphed into a determination to get some point across.

"Look, I'm just trying to help you out," he said finally, his voice softening a little. "I had a brother once."

Alex's heart skipped a beat. "What happened?" she asked in barely more than a whisper, already knowing the answer.

"What do you think?" Ross's full beard made his face hard to read but his brown eyes grew immensely sad, heavy wrinkles forming beneath them. "I was seventeen, he was sixteen. The Terminator…" he gave her a sheepish glance, "that's what I called him. Red-Eyes, as you call him, showed up one night when Tristan was around. I got scared and stupidly tried to fight back and Termin…Red-Eyes got mad and killed him."

Alex didn't offer her similar story about her parents. She didn't talk about that to anyone, not even Josh. She certainly wasn't going to spill her guts to a virtual stranger no matter what they had in common. "I'm sorry," was all she said.

"You will be if you let anything happen to your brother," Ross said pointedly. "That'll be on your head. You willing to live with that?"

Alex was spared having to answer that question by a loud knock at the door. Ross jumped to his feet and grabbed the shotgun. "Who's there?" he demanded.

The door opened slowly and a dripping wet Bobby stepped in over the threshold. He looked briefly at Ross, who was back to being the wild-eyed paranoid hermit that had greeted them outside, staring down the barrel of his shotgun at the mechanic. Bobby ignored him and looked over to Alex, who was on her feet also and looked shaken. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked.

She nodded but Ross jerked the gun at him. "You get out of here!" he snarled.

Bobby scowled. "Put the gun down, ya idjit," he growled, ignoring Ross as he strolled over to the stove and opened the front, checking the wood before searching around for the means to light it. "I'm just gonna get warned up here then let's see this information you've got."

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**June 2009**_

The brothers reached the gym with no interference. There was not a single demon in the hallways and neither could decide if that was a good sign or a bad one. They raced up to a set of double doors and threw one side open, both gasping in relief at the sight.

Josh and Colby were both still alive. In fact, they were both still on their feet. Granted, their situation didn't look particularly good, but at least they weren't dead.

They were all at the far end of the gym. Colby was on the losing end of a grappling match with a demon, the body of another one lying still at his feet. There were bodies in three of the four circles, lying on the floor and looking very much dead – that was definitely a good sign. Maybe Cas had been wrong about them being too late.

Josh was standing in the last circle with Ivan chained in the center, a female demon practically hissing at him from where she stood three feet away at the edge of the painted lines. The demon in the middle of the four circles was laughing loudly, his arms outstretched in the air. Josh had drawn the dagger he had borrowed from Sam and the brothers saw him lunge at the restrained vampire.

That was really the last thing they saw for a bright flash of light suddenly filled the fourth circle, swallowing Josh and Ivan up with it. An invisible blast rippled out from the light's source, knocking both Winchesters off their feet and sending them hurtling back out into the hallway, blinded and dazed.

Dean picked himself up first, shaking himself clear of the dizziness and disorientation like a wet dog would shake out its coat. He stepped quickly over to Sam, who was rolling to his knees. "Sammy, you okay?"

"I'm fine," came the automated response, though Sam didn't even look as though he was aware he'd said it. He accepted Dean's hand and struggled to his feet, his knees a little wobbly but holding.

With Dean's hand still wrapped in Sam's sleeve, the brothers moved back over to the open door, both dreading what they would find in the gym when they got there. Dean braced his hand on the doorframe, pausing to pull himself together and take in the situation.

Josh was sprawled on the floor about ten feet outside Ivan's circle, unmoving. Dean swallowed with dread and took a step into the gym, his hand automatically stretching out behind him to splay lightly across Sam's chest in an unconscious effort to keep his younger brother back and out of danger. Colby was thirty feet away from where he had been fighting the demon, sitting up against the wall that he had been thrown against by the supernatural blast. He was awake and looked like he was attempting to gather his feet beneath him and stand.

The demon that the Texan had been fighting was fleeing, heading for the door on the far wall on the heels of the female, both of them glancing backwards and eyeing the last demon warily. The last demon, the one that had been standing in the center chanting, was now standing in Ivan's circle, hands in the air and breathing deeply. He seemed bigger, somehow. Or at least more imposing, more menacing than he had on the cameras and just before the blast. He was different. Call it instinct or intuition or a lifetime of experience, but both brothers just somehow knew it was now Netiran possessing the man's body.

_Could have been worse_, Dean thought. _He could have jumped into Josh or Colby_. He found himself fleetingly wondering if the interminable Brenton optimism was starting to rub off on him.

Netiran turned slowly to face the brothers and his eyes flashed green.

"Shit," Dean grumbled. "Green. What does that mean? Freaking demons should come with a colour decoder list, like a goddamn box of chocolates."

"Damnit Dean, the seal's broken," Sam replied, in no mood for his brother's inappropriate timing for an attempt at humour.

Netiran started walking towards the brothers with a slow, unhurried stride. The Winchesters stopped their advance, not really sure what to do. How were they gonna kill this guy? He was obviously a very high level demon or his eyes would have been black; it seemed only the upper crust got to go pastel.

Sam brushed Dean's hand away and stepped in front of his brother, raising his hand. Dean grabbed his sleeve, yanking him back. "Sam, no." No way could Sam take this guy on; he was barely staying on his feet.

For the second time in five minutes, Cas's timing was impeccable. He strode through the door behind the brothers and planted himself in front of them again, throwing them a quick look of disapproval at their disobedience as he passed them. He had ordered them to leave the building. The welfare of the other hunters was really not of great concern to him at this moment considering the stakes at play.

"Go!" he ordered, more sternly than before as he squared his shoulders to the approaching demon. His hair was disheveled - well, disheveled more than usual. His tie was looser than it had been, his shirt was partially untucked, and a drip of blood from the corner of his mouth was smeared across his chin.

Netiran hadn't seemed bothered or threatened by the Winchesters, but his face drew into a deep scowl at the appearance of the angel. Dean still held Sam's sleeve in his grasp, making damn sure his brother didn't try and mix it up in the impending battle royale.

The battle, however, turned out to be more of a two second TKO. Cas took a step forward to meet the advancing demon, taking a swing at the middle-aged man's head. The strike was blocked and Netiran thrust his fist forward, impacting it with Castiel's chest. A green light seemed to flash behind the angel's eyes and mouth and Cas's body shot backwards, soaring into the air and disappearing into nothingness.

"Cas!" Dean shouted in alarm, shock and panic coursing through him as he realized he didn't have a clue what had just happened. Was Cas dead? It had appeared more like what had happened when Anna had used the blood spell on Cas and Uriel a few months ago, so maybe he would be back. God, he hoped so. He had developed a genuine fondness for the angel mixed in with his need for redemption, even if he had never admitted it out loud.

Netiran paused for brief second, not looking the least unsettled. He glanced towards the Winchesters before his gaze moved to the doorway in the wall behind them and he turned towards it instead, casually moving forward. Dean stepped back out of the demon's path of travel, dragging Sam with him, pleading silently that his brother didn't try anything stupid. They couldn't handle it right now; they needed to regroup, reassess, and come up with a new strategy. He found himself slightly surprised it was him that wanted to think this out and Sam that was the potential loose cannon. Exactly when had the roles shifted? Since when was he the rational one and Sam the impetuous one?

Sam, on the other hand, was angry. Angry that they had just lost the sixtieth seal. Angry that demons had nearly killed him and his brother again. Angry that Colby was in rough shape and Josh was either unconscious or dead. Angry that his brother's angel had just been taken out like a fly being swatted on a hot day. But most of all, angry that he hadn't juiced himself up last night when he'd had the chance. If he had met Ruby and drank his fill, he would surely have been able to take this clown out. That would be the last time he let Dean's sentiment and inner turmoil cost them a battle.

Angry as he was, however, he clenched his fists and stood still while the demon passed them on his way out of the gym, glancing at them like they were insignificant fleas not worthy of his attention. Sam glared at Netiran until he was out the door. It was Dean's voice that snapped his attention back to the room.

"Whoa, Sam, crap! It's Ivan!" Dean exclaimed, finally letting go of Sam's arm and running towards the far end of the gym and the circles.

Sam turned to see Ivan, whose chains had apparently broken in the blast for he was free of them now, picking up Josh's lost dagger and heading quickly towards the motionless blond man on the floor. "Try to cut _my_ head off, will you?!" Ivan was cursing, swinging the dagger in his hand as he picked up speed. "Shoot _me_ with dead man's blood!"

The teenage vampire ran the last three steps, raising the dagger in the air and preparing to swing it down on the fallen hunter with all his might. Sam was running too but it was clear neither Winchester would reach him in time.

Colby did. Having lost his sword in the blast, he had drawn the four inch silver knife he kept sheathed on his waistband and thrown himself in front of the charging vampire as Ivan swung downwards. He managed to deflect the forceful blow enough that the dagger missed Josh, sinking into the wooden gym floor inches from the blond man's torso. Colby recovered from the impact with desperate speed and rammed the small blade into the side of Ivan's neck, trying to pull away from the vampire as he did so.

Ivan screamed, his voice garbled by the blood in his throat, but he never let go of the dagger's hilt. Instead he pulled it free from the floor with a yank, drew back with lightening speed, and rammed it right through Colby, the blade emerging from the hunter's back slick with his blood as the hilt reached his stomach. Colby collapsed around the blade and seemed to hang suspended for a long instant before sinking to the floor as Ivan tipped it downwards and he slid off the metal.

Dean swore as he ran, aware of Sam a few paces behind him. Ivan reached up and clasped a hand over the wound in his neck, glancing over at the approaching hunters. He gave Sam a sly wink before turning and running out the far door.

Dean skidded to his knees when he reached Colby. The hunter was lying on his back, hands clutching at the red, soaking mess that was the front of his shirt. Dean mentally braced himself before reaching out, prying the kid's hands away to get a look at the wound.

He didn't need to move the shirt. The amount of blood made it pretty clear he wasn't gonna be able to patch this up. "Call an ambulance," he ordered Sam as he folded his own hands over the wound and applied gentle, even pressure.

Sam was kneeling down next to Josh, two fingers on the blond man's neck feeling for a pulse. Colby grabbed Dean's wrist, trying to get the older hunter's attention off the wound for a moment. _"Is he okay?"_ he whispered weakly, trying to lift his head to see in Josh's direction.

Dean looked over to Sam, who raised his head and gave an affirmative nod. Returning his focus to Colby, Dean gave him an encouraging smile. "Yeah, dude; he's gonna be fine."

Looking down at the bloody man on the floor in front of him, eyes wide with pain and fear, Dean was suddenly struck at how young he looked. He didn't have his usual cowboy hat on, having claimed the stealth for this mission would be more easily achieved without it. Dean took note of the flannel shirt and shaggy brown hair and was hit with a creepy and terrifying notion of how much the kid resembled Sam right now. Of how easily this could have been Sam.

Colby was trying to talk again and Dean bowed his head closer so he could hear the gargled, whispered words.

_"__Get him out of here."_

The elder Winchester fought to keep an optimistic look on his face, nodding and giving Colby a half-hearted smile. "You too, buddy," he said, though he hadn't figured out yet exactly what they were gonna do. "We're all gettin' out of here."

Colby managed a weak grin, his own blood smeared across his teeth, before his eyes closed and his head fell sideways. Dean tapped his face. "Hey, hey, you gotta stay awake. Colby?"

"Dean." Sam caught his brother's attention, snapping his phone shut before the call went through when he noticed Colby's chest had grown still.

"Dean, he's gone."

"Dean."

"Dean, we gotta go."

Dean rolled back on his haunches for a second, trying to pull his thoughts back to their predicament. _Fuck, this sucked_. "Okay," he said hoarsely, getting to his feet and rooting through his inside pockets for the small bottle of lighter fluid he usually had there for impromptu salt-and-burns. There wasn't a lot but it would do.

He hesitated, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opened them, Sam's hand was outstretched towards him holding the remnants of his bag of salt. Dean took it wordlessly and emptied it over the dead hunter. He flipped open the cap of the lighter fluid and sprayed it over Colby before pulling out a book of matches. He paused for another second, giving Sam a look of guilt over the hurried, half-ass send-off they were giving a good, brave kid who hadn't deserved to die. But Sam wasn't in any shape to carry him and there were demons around so they couldn't leave the kid's body vulnerable to possession. That would be even less respectable. Some relative would steal the corpse out of the morgue later and do the kid right.

Sam gave a solemn, respectful nod and Dean struck a match, bending it to ignite the others and tossing the booklet on Colby's fuel-covered chest. The brother's watched the flames dance for a brief moment before turning to leave. Sam still looked weak and shaky so Dean gestured for him to gather a couple of weapons while he hoisted Josh up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and followed his swaying brother out of the school, making a silent plea that they wouldn't run into any more demons.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**TBC...**_

_Gah, I hated doing that because I loved Colby but... this is Supernatural, right? His death was kind of... romantic in a Supernatural sort of way. Please don't kill me but I'd love you to leave a review and let me know what you thought of him and his demise. _

_BTW, if you liked Colby and wanted to read more of his story, I actually did another shorter fic with him set about a year before this (while Dean is in Hell) where he teams up with Jo. It's a story about how Jo comes to start hunting with Ellen and how she goes from whiny wannabe hunter in 'No Exit' (who I did not care for at all) to kick-ass hunter in 'The End' (that I loved and hated to see die). Colby is her co-star and we get a lot more of his history in that one. Obviously it's not a romance, lol, and I am definitely NOT a Dean-Jo shipper. If you're interested, it's on my other account (pename Cornev) and is called Hunters Harvelle. _

_Next chap: A car chase ? What? In Supernatural? Yup. Oh, that and Dean lands himself in a whole lotta trouble. And where is cas?_


	17. Kill Lillith, Save the World, Save Dean

_Happy Independence Day to all you American readers... and to Sam and Dean, of course! :)_

**Chapter 17**_** - **_**Kill Lillith, Save the World, Save Dean**

_**June 2009**_

They reached the cars without incident. Both brothers were surprised the fire alarm hadn't gone off yet and there were no signs of police having been alerted to all the gunfire. Perhaps they were actually being blessed with one tiny sliver of luck in this otherwise crappy day.

_And the day's only just getting started_, Dean thought sullenly, breathing hard with the exertion of carrying a six-foot-one surfer. He nodded at Sam to open the back door of the Impala so he could offload the burden but Sam apparently had other plans. The younger Winchester motioned instead to the Bronco and started digging around in Josh's jeans pocket for the keys while still the blond man was in the awkward position of being slung over Dean's shoulder.

"What the Hell, Sam?" Dean demanded, panting loudly. "He can't drive!"

"Duh, Dean," Sam fired back. "But we can't just leave his car here. You should drive him to a hospital in it." He fumbled with the keychain and clicked the remote keyless entry button, swinging the back passenger door open for Dean. "I'll go find us a new motel so we can get cleaned up."

The elder Winchester was stunned speechless for a few seconds but covered by using the time to lower Josh onto his own back seat. Dean didn't want to split up. After what just happened, the way he was feeling right now, he wanted his little brother as close to him as he could get. He didn't want to let the kid out of his sight. They had just lost seal number sixty. God only knows what had happened to Cas. A fellow hunter had just been killed. He was about to stammer a response suggesting they stick together when Sam cut him off, giving an almost frustrated look.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked with an impatient edge.

Suddenly feeling defensive, Dean responded in the manner that came instinctively to him - offensively. "Of course I am," he snapped. "I'm not the one who's been mojo-ing it down with demons. Can you even drive? You could barely walk a few seconds ago."

"I'm fine," Sam assured him. "Now let's get out of here before any demons show up." With that he handed Dean the Bronco's keys, spun on his heel and strode over to the Impala.

Dean took just the briefest of seconds to gather his wits, staring at his brother's broad back as it moved away. He looked over at the Mustang parked across the street, feeling the bite of sorrow over what had just happened to its owner. '_I'm sorry sweetheart,_' he mumbled to the classic car, quietly enough that Sam couldn't hear. Geek boy just couldn't understand why Dean spoke to his _own_ car, never mind someone else's ride, even if it was another well-cared-for beauty. The Mustang blinked at him and he started for a second before realizing it was Shelby sitting in the passenger seat, her blue husky eyes staring eagerly at them in anticipation of Colby's return.

"Aw shit," Dean breathed, forgetting about Sam's odd decision to split up for the moment and walking quickly over to Colby's car. He stuck his hand in the half-open driver's window and unlocked the door, swinging it open to let the dog out. "C'mon girl!" he urged.

Shelby bounded out of the car, hesitating for just a second as she looked around for her owner before trotting over to the Bronco and hopping in the still-open back door. She practically landed on Josh as she sniffed the still man's face, letting out a small whimper before, to Dean's mild surprise, sitting down on the small sliver of empty seat by his head. Dean just shrugged but figured he would take the dog in the Bronco because the Impala had a strict 'no dog' rule. Sam was starting up the Impala's engine and he gave Dean an approving nod before pulling away from the curb, not even waiting until Dean got in the SUV before he rumbled away.

Dean closed the Bronco's back door, giving Josh's feet an extra shove first to get them out of harm's way, and hopped in the driver's seat. He stared at all of Josh's high-tech gear on the dash like it was an assortment of gaudy, distasteful, head-bobbing ornaments and clucked his disapproval as he started the smooth engine. He followed his beloved Impala to the end of the street, getting a strange, eerie feeling when it turned left and he took a right at the stop sign.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

As soon as the Bronco was no longer visible in his rear-view mirror, Sam yanked out his phone, dialing numbers as fast as he could.

"_Hi Sam_."

"Ruby, Godamnit, where are you?"

"_Good morning to you too."_

"I don't have time for this! We need to meet up – now."

"_Fine, where are you?"_

"By the high school on Shellbrook Street. Where's the nearest motel?"

"_I'll meet you in ten minutes at the one on Langham Avenue just over the river from there."_

Sam snapped the phone shut without saying goodbye, reaching for the Denver map in the glove compartment. He unfolded it awkwardly on the empty passenger seat, trying to figure out where he was going without having to delay by pulling over. He could tell Dean hadn't liked the idea of splitting up and hoped he wasn't too suspicious of Sam's motives.

Sam was still feeling woozy, still shaking, and still angry at all that had gone down. If he'd had enough demon blood in his system, he could have taken Netiran. Hell, he could have wiped out the demons in the lab in seconds and maybe they would have made it to the gym in time to save Colby.

He blew an audible sigh out at the memory of the young hunter dying, Dean's hands pressed to his stomach in a vain attempt to keep the man's blood inside his body. Between losing people he cared about and getting himself beaten and battered on a pretty regular basis by both demons and angels, Sam was sure his brother was hanging on by nothing more than a thread. He wasn't going to be able to take much more.

For a short while after Dean had returned from Hell, it had seemed he was improving, getting stronger. Drunker, yes, but stronger all the same, and dealing with the guilt of what he had gone through in Hell. The nightmares became less frequent, though still a regular occurrence. Even the dependence on the bottle seemed to be waning. Then Alistair had dropped the bomb on him that he had broken the first seal; that Dean had been the one to start the whole Apocalypse ball rolling. The hits just kept coming after that. It was up to Dean to stop the Apocalypse - if he failed, the world was doomed. Their lives had been put on public display through a series of badly-written B-rated novellas, exposing and sensationalizing every last scrap of pain, fear, and shame they'd felt in the past four years. Alex had been pretty much tortured every day for months because they had locked her up _with_ her torturer. They had a brother that Dad had apparently loved more than them. Nope, scratch that – their brother was dead.

Now they had just lost seal number sixty. Only five more then it would all be down to one. Sam's faith that the angels could stop Lillith was about as miniscule as his belief that Dean could. Whatever the physiological reason, be it demon blood or extra fibre with his damn wheaties, Sam couldn't ignore the fact that he was strong. _**Very strong**_. And he was unarguably the best weapon the good guys, the _humans_, had in this fight for survival. He wasn't going to sit back anymore and tiptoe around Dean. He needed to juice up, get rid of these shakes, then go take care of his brother.

Because God knows the poor bastard could use him right now. Sam had been watching Dean's face as his brother watched the life leave Colby and never wanted to see that look again. That look of pain and loss and guilt and a thousand other emotions, all of them bad, running through him and tearing him apart. Breaking him all over again. Piece by piece, chink by chink. Fate just wouldn't seem to let up on his big brother. It was time somebody interceded. Screw what fate says about the Righteous Man having to stop it all. The Righteous Man had been through enough so his little brother was gonna step up to the plate.

All he had to do was kill Lillith. It seemed so simple. Kill Lillith, save the world, save Dean. A happily ever after for everyone. Now where the fuck was this motel?

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Dean didn't want to take Josh to a hospital if he could help it, remembering the blond man's pleas the last time he was hurt about having to report for parole in California and not being allowed to travel in the meantime. He was hoping his friend would wake up before he got to one but he knew not to take any chances with head injuries.

He also had a gnawing fear that something was up with Sam; that the kid was still lying and sneaking around. He thought about calling him back and telling him they should stick together but found himself too afraid that he was right. It occurred to him that maybe what Sam had said under the siren's influence hadn't been far from the truth. Afraid and pathetic? He was too afraid to find out what was really going on in case he didn't like what he found out. And he was pathetic enough to keep kidding himself and hiding behind his ignorance.

He signaled to turn onto the highway, pretty sure this would lead him east towards the nearest hospital. Once he got there he would maybe give Josh a few minutes to wake up on his own before taking him inside. After all, he didn't want to land the guy back in jail unless he really needed serious medical attention. He glanced in the rear view mirror and noticed Josh hadn't moved. He'd been out a long time – not a good sign.

He took note of the silver Chrysler 300 a hundred yards behind him taking the same turn but didn't think anything of it until it took the same exit as him also. His hunter's instincts kicked in, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. He took a couple of random turns, keeping his eyes on the sedan. It followed him at a deceiving distance but it seemed way too much of a coincidence that it was going the exact same route he was.

Dean didn't believe in coincidences. He pressed the accelerator down firmly, taking a sharp right. It was just after sunrise on a Sunday morning so there wasn't much traffic on the side roads, making it easy for Dean to track the silver car in his rear view mirror. It sped up also, screeching its tires slightly as it took the same corner far too fast.

"Crap," Dean breathed, groaning at the continuing suckiness of this day. "What do you think?" he asked out loud, mostly speaking to himself as the man in the back seat was still completely out. "Demons?"

Shelby let out a whimper and Dean grinned. "Yeah, I think so too," he said.

He applied more pressure to the pedal, shifting the Bronco up a gear as his speed increased. He almost wished there was more traffic as that would help him lose the tail, but the driver of the Chrysler kept up. Clearly whoever it was knew they had been made for they quickly closed the gap between the car and the Bronco, careening around corners as fast as Dean was.

A few turns later and Dean found himself on a highway heading south, though he wasn't really sure where that would take him. He figured a highway was a good thing since maybe he could outdrive the demon. He swerved around a semi, weaving back into the right hand lane between the truck and a coach bus. He was now driving well in excess of the speed limit and hoped to God no cops showed up. Somehow he didn't think '_a car full of demons was chasing me_' would be an acceptable excuse.

The sedan followed, managing to keep up with the Bronco with relative ease. Dean figured it must be the V8 model and realized he wouldn't be able to outrun it on an open highway. He needed room to maneuver and turns to be able to lose the tail. He ignored a furious honk from a man in a pickup that he cut off in an effort to get some cars between him and his pursuer. Checking his rear view again he noticed the guy giving him the finger. "Up yours Buddy," he mumbled testily.

He wished he was in his own baby as he could practically steer her with instinct alone. He had been driving the Impala since he was twelve and moved her as if she were an extension of his own body, even if she was a bulky beast of a ride. He yanked the Bronco's steering wheel sharply to the right, screeching onto the exit ramp at the last possible second.

Dean felt a thud on the back of his seat. "Jesus fucking Christ!" came a voice from behind him. He couldn't suppress a chuckle as he checked the rear view mirror for the Chrysler, hoping it hadn't made the exit ramp.

It had. It sailed over gravel and a couple of feet of the grass buffer, but it made the turn. He raced to the end of the ramp and swung a sharp left, coming nowhere near a full stop at the stop sign. The Bronco's tires screeched again and he straightened the SUV up after the rear end shimmied back and forth a couple of times, finding himself on a busy road with lots of traffic lights.

He could hear movement in the back seat and allowed himself a brief second of relief that Josh was apparently okay, or at least awake. He saw a blond head pop up in his peripheral but as he took a sharp right turn, it disappeared again, accompanied by some more rather vulgar swearing. Dean laughed, not bothering to turn around.

He found himself now on an almost rural-looking road that had plenty of bends and curves. Hoping maybe he could lose them here without having to worry about ending up in a police chase, he threw the SUV back up into fourth gear and peeled around the first turn.

Josh was managing to sit up again in the back seat. "Fuck," was all he said, his hand to his head as he winced his discomfort. Dean glanced sideways to see the blond man trying to maneuver his bulk into the front passenger seat. He had almost made it when Dean had to take another hairpin turn and Josh more or less fell into the seat face first, his head striking the passenger door with a loud crack.

"Mother fucker!" he swore, once again grabbing his head as he scrambled to right himself in the roomy seat.

Dean looked sideways with a grin. "Anyone ever tell you that you have a serious potty mouth?" he joked. "You learn all that in Sing Sing?"

Josh looked over at him, eyebrow raised. "Bro, I don't see you driving your own car this hard," he said accusingly. "Slow the fuck down."

Suddenly they heard a loud pop and at the same time, the Bronco's rear windshield shattered. "What the Hell was that?" cried Josh.

"Oh, did I forget to mention we have a car full of demons chasing us?" Dean said in a somewhat casual manner, pulling himself lower in the seat.

Josh's face registered the situation and he let out an exasperated sigh and quickly sank low in his own seat. He turned to look out the back, where the window used to be, squinting to see past his massive headache. He felt around his waistband, curling his lip in disappointment when he found no gun there. He turned to Dean, who had both hands gripped firmly on the wheel trying to keep the speeding SUV on the road.

"Dude, you got a gun on you?"

Dean pulled his .45 from his waistband and handed it to Josh as a series of shots struck the Bronco, this time hitting the rear side panel on the driver's side. Dean cursed, hoping he didn't get a bullet in his head before he could lose these sonsabitches.

"Shelby, get down girl," Josh coaxed, not wanting to have to explain to Colby that his dog had been shot. "Down." He wondered fleetingly why the dog was in his car and not in the Mustang but another shot hitting the Bronco snapped his attention back to the demons behind them. He fired repeatedly backwards between the two seats and through the back windowspace, over the dog's head. The car's front windshield shattered and it swerved just a little but never slowed down. Josh could see two men in the front seats and another hanging out the back window holding a semi-automatic rifle. He was fairly sure he had hit the driver but the dude just kept coming.

"They're demons," Dean reminded him. "Bullets sting but they won't kill them."

"So what do you think?" Josh asked the more experienced hunter. "Should I lean out the window and shoot for the tires?"

Dean looked up ahead where he could see the highway crossing over the road they were on. There was a steep, rough embankment on either side of the overpass. "Dude, you got shift-on-the-fly in this thing?"

"For four wheel drive?" Josh took an extra second to piece together what Dean was planning and groaned as he looked at the bush-covered embankment. "Yeah, yeah," he said, "just try to slow down a little before you shift so you don't rip the…"

The Bronco jolted and a loud, metal crunching noise grated from the transmission as Dean shifted into four wheel drive at close to sixty miles an hour. He gave Josh a sheepish look. "Sorry," he shrugged. "Hang on."

The Bronco veered off the road and headed straight for the very steep slope, bouncing the hunters up and down in their seats as they ploughed through the ditch and towards the highway above. Dean swerved around a particularly large rock as the SUV spun its tires in the dirt of the forty-five degree slope.

"Whoa, Dean, keep it straight," Josh said nervously. "You get sideways and we'll tip."

Dean chuckled and was about to make a cocky remark but stopped abruptly when the front upper wheel left the ground. He yanked the steering wheel back to straighten the Bronco back up and winced at the crunching sound she made as she hit the rock and bounced up over it.

With only another couple of nail-biting incidents, he managed to reach the top, screeching onto the asphalt highway in front of an RV. Josh peered out the window back down the slope, grinning when he saw the Chrysler stuck nose first in the ditch below. "We're home free, bro," he informed Dean as they straightened out and blended in with the light morning traffic.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**May 2009**_

It was dark by the time Bobby and Alex got back on the road on their way back to South Dakota. Alex had been fairly quiet from the time Bobby had entered Ross's shack and was still quiet now. The mechanic noticed she didn't even put the SUV's radio on and wondered if her silence could simply be attributed to tiredness. After all, the girl hadn't slept at all last night between her fiasco with Hal at Grady's Rodeo Lounge and then catching up on all the information Bobby had gathered so far on Red-Eyes.

"You alright Lex?" he asked her.

She pulled on a fake smile much like Bobby had seen Dean do a hundred thousand times when something was bothering him that he didn't want to admit to. "Yeah, of course," she answered before pulling another classic Dean move that Bobby liked to refer to as 'the deflection'. "I was wondering just how you managed to get out of that hole." She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

Bobby grinned, deciding to play along for the time being. "I used the pieces of wood from the broken cover as stilts and, together with my rifle, managed to walk myself up the walls."

She nodded in approval. "Pretty impressive for an old man, B."

"Hmph. Who you callin' old? And what? Bobby too long of a name for you?"

"Boring," she waved her hand in the air dismissively. "I could go with Badass Bobby or Big Bad B. How about Big Daddy B or the Bobmeister? Or Bad Bad Leroy Brown 'cause, you know, the junkyard dog thing. Or oh! Bobby-Hotep, that was a class-act movie. Or of you prefer…"

"B's fine," Bobby groaned, rolling his eyes and ignoring the blonde's triumphant smile. "You know, Ross gave us a barrel-load of information," he added, figuring the underlying troubled vibe he was getting from her stemmed from discouragement that they hadn't found a way to kill Red-Eyes. "Even if it seems like there's no way to kill him right now, there is. Now that we know _what_ he is, I can find his weakness. Don't you worry, Kiddo."

Alex looked over at Bobby, his gentle brown eyes sincere in his spoken promise. She was suddenly overcome with gratitude that Sam and Dean had dropped her off at Singer Salvage, even if it had been from a lack of options on their part. She had been feeling pretty low and messed up by the time Dean had shown up at Oceanview and knew she must have seemed a little crazy. Her mother had always hated it when she had her 'withdrawn' spells when Josh was away during her teen years. 'Crazy' had been one of the more subtle terms the socialite had used on the many occasions she had reached the limit of her patience and tolerance with her daughter.

Bobby, on the other hand, had never made her feel crazy or even different. He'd never seemed frustrated or inconvenienced by her presence, even though she'd clearly screwed up the regular routine and order of his long-time bachelor set-in-his-ways life. At first she thought he was just being nice because he had a soft spot for Sam and Dean. She had since come to realize, however, that Bobby was all soft. That gruff exterior shell was as much a front as Dean's '_I don't do emo_' bluff and Sam's doe-eyed Mr. Sensitive routine.

Alex's thoughts came back to Josh and Ross Wilson's words ran through her mind_. 'If you love your brother you'll stay as far away from him as possible.'_ She wondered what she would have ended up like if she hadn't had her brother in her life, continually assuring her she wasn't alone and always making her feel like she mattered. She realized that the answer was Ross Wilson. Scared, paranoid, antisocial, and truly alone. But, after all these years of running, Josh was finally clear, finally safe. It would be incredibly selfish of her to drag him back into all this. As much as she would miss him, this wasn't about her. She'd cost him enough. She looked over at Bobby.

"Bobby, could I stay at your place just a little longer?" she asked. "I mean, just until I get a place of my own?"

Bobby looked mildly surprised but answered quickly. "Of course, hon. You can stay as long as you need. Your brother can too when he gets out next week."

"No, I meant just me," she clarified.

He gave her a sharp glance, piecing together her train of thought quickly. "Ya ain't thinkin' of doin' what I think you're thinkin' of doin', are you?" he accused with a disapproving glare.

Alex looked away. "He's free and clear when he gets out," she shrugged. "No outstanding warrants, no police, no Red-Eyes, no other supernatural crap."

"That won't matter to him if he's gotta add 'no sister' to the list. You know there's no way he'll agree."

"It won't be his choice," she reasoned quietly. "He doesn't know where I am."

Bobby shook his head. "Sorry, Kiddo, but that ain't fair to him."

"You don't even know him," she argued.

"I don't need to," Bobby said with conviction. "I've heard enough and I know a little something about big brothers going without their little sibling."

When she didn't respond he continued, softening his voice a little. "Look, Lex, when Sam was eighteen he left to go to Stanford," he told her. "Dean had spent his whole life lookin' after that boy; feedin' him, dressin' him, helpin' him with his homework. Sam didn't so much leave Dean as he left John. He left hunting. But Dean…" Bobby paused and shook his head, remembering how low Dean had sunk in the months after Sam had gone. "Dean didn't see it that way. He was lost. He threw himself into hunting, running headfirst into situations with no thought of getting' out alive. There was a hole inside that boy the size of a Mac truck and there wasn't anybody or anything could fill it but Sam."

The mechanic seemed to have forgotten the purpose of telling Alex this story and by now was simply reliving the sad memory. He shook his head. "John, may he rest in peace, was blind as a bat to that boy's pain. Kept pushing him harder and harder, treating him more like a soldier than a son. After Sam's little rebellion, he tightened the reins on Dean so tight the kid could hardly breathe. And when I told him as much, I got a face full of his fist for my troubles. Ended up chasing the clueless sonofabitch off my land with a shotgun." He gave a half-hearted, sad chuckle at the memory. "I didn't speak to him for near three years after that. Dean, as loyal as he was to his Daddy, stayed clear of my place too and that, I'll always regret. Wasn't until John went missing that Sam and Dean showed up on my doorstep, dragging their usual demon trouble behind them, of course."

Alex listened in silence, finding herself intrigued and touched by this small peek into the Winchester family's history.

Bobby looked over at her, remembering the point he had been trying to make. "You're the only family your brother's had in his life for eight years. Don't fool yourself into thinking he can make any kind of life for himself without you."

Alex decided not to argue further and gave him a deceiving, conceding smile. "Okay," was all she said as she turned her attention back out the window to the Wyoming scenery.

She thought back to the night her parents had been killed. She remembered waking up to find her life shattered. Her Mom and Dad were lying dead on the living room floor, bloody and beaten. As terrible and traumatic as that had been, however, the moment that haunted her the most was the instant her eyes fell on Josh, lying deathly still by the front door. He had turned out to just be in a coma but those eleven days until he regained consciousness were by far the worst in her life. She couldn't put Josh at risk again. Red-Eyes had killed her parents to punish her and he'd killed Ross's brother to punish Ross. She should have left Josh a long time ago.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 2009**_

There was a minute of silence once they hit the highway during which Josh steadied his breathing after the burst of excitement. He finally turned to Dean. "So what happened with the ritual?"

"Well," Dean joked, reverting to his usual method of stalling, "you decided to take another nap. You know, if you keep falling asleep on the job like this, I'm gonna hafta dock your pay. I'm getting tired of carting your heavy ass around."

"Nothing heavy about my ass," Josh only managed a partial smile at the attempt at levity. "So what about the ritual?"

"What do you remember?" Dean asked evasively.

"Shooting Ivan and the young chick and I think the wolf and the old lady too. That's about it," he answered, noticing the discomfort in Dean's voice. "Did it work? Did we stop the ritual?" He felt a sudden sense of dread. "And why is Shelby in here with us?"

Dean winced, not relishing the prospect of informing Josh that Colby had been killed.

"Things didn't go down very well, man," he admitted, keeping his eyes forward. "Netty still managed to pop in, despite the monsters being dead."

"And Colby?"

Dean sighed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "He didn't make it."

Josh remained silent, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose for a few seconds. Finally he turned to Dean. "I was supposed to have his back. Did I screw up?"

"No," Dean said honestly. "Colby was fine then there was this big blast when Netty came topside. You were knocked out and Ivan, he…" Dean ran his hand down over his mouth. "Ivan went for Colby and killed him," he finished, kindly altering the truth slightly.

Another long minute. "So the seal got broken then."

"Yeah, looks like it."

"You mind if we stop at a gas station or something?" Josh asked with a sigh, leaning back in his seat. "I'm pretty sure I've got a concussion and my car's messed up enough – I don't wanna puke in it too."

Dean threw him a concerned look. His first instinct was to pull open his friend's eyelids and check his pupils, but he fought that urge down almost instantaneously. That much open concern was reserved for Sam. Well, maybe if Josh had been a hot chick he might have allowed it, but for now he settled for a subtle scrutiny. The guy had been out for a while; a concussion was not only possible but probable. He signaled to take the upcoming off ramp, still not sure where they were.

"Yeah, sure. Sorry about your car, Dude."

Josh laughed though Dean couldn't help but notice there wasn't much real mirth behind it. "You ever see Lexie drive?" he asked. "My sister's good at a lot of things, but driving is _not_ one of them. Trust me, I'm used to having to fix this thing up."

They coasted down the off ramp and found a gas station within a couple of minutes. Josh strode around the Bronco and reached in through the shot-out back window to grab a clean shirt from the trunk. Shelby's eyes followed him and she whimpered slightly as he started to leave, not wanting to be left behind by the more familiar face. Josh sighed and opened the rear door for her to get out and headed around the side of the building to the washroom with the husky at his heels.

Dean took advantage of the short reprieve to call and check on Sam, hoping the demons hadn't followed him out of the school also. He hit the speed-dial and tapped the steering wheel impatiently through four rings before his brother picked up.

"_Hey Dean."_

Dean could have sworn there was a hint of annoyance in Sam's voice. "Sam – you okay?"

"_Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"_

"'Cause demons followed us from the school."

"_What? Are you alright? What happened?"_

"Yeah, we're fine. We lost 'em on the highway."

"_We?"_ Sam never was one to miss a detail. _"So I take it Josh is okay then?"_

"Yeah, he'll live. You find a motel?"

"_Uh, yeah, just checking in. It's the Rosetown Motel on Langham Ave. You coming right now?_

"Josh is inside working through a concussion." Dean informed his brother. "I told him about Colby so I'll give him a few minutes peace then we'll head over there."

"_Okay, see you then."_

"Hey Sam?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Be careful, okay?"

"_You too, Dean."_

Dean was surprised when Josh showed up back at the car just a couple of minutes later. He was even more surprised to find Shelby wasn't with him.

"Dude, where's the dog?"

"It wasn't my dog, Dean," the blond man answered, hopping into the passenger seat and seeming remarkably refreshed.

Dean looked at Josh incredulously. "No, it was Colby's. Your friend who just _died_." He resisted the temptation to add '_for you__'_. "You just gonna ditch his pet?" Dean didn't even like dogs but abandoning Shelby seemed disrespectful and cold.

"I asked somebody to take it to the local pound," Josh shrugged. "I can't look after a dog."

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, realizing Josh may have suffered a more severe head trauma than he had originally suspected. He had thusfar seemed the type who could hold it together and deal with things like the loss of a friend and apocalyptic setbacks. As Lex had once told Dean, '_Josh doesn't do angst._'

"I'm fine," Josh answered with an almost convincing smile. "But can I borrow your phone for a sec? I've lost mine."

"Sure," Dean mumbled absently, handing Josh his cell but still not starting the car. "Look, I don't think you really wanna ditch your friend's dog like that, dude," he persisted, sure that Josh would regret the decision later and feel guilty about it. Heartless was something Josh most certainly wasn't.

Josh just rolled his eyes and threw Dean's phone out the window into the grass. Before Dean could react, the blond man pulled a 9mm out of his pants and turned it on the hunter. "Enough with the freaking dog, Dean. Get driving."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

**_TBC..._**

_Next chap: Surprise guest star and just the start of a very, very, very bad day for Dean... _


	18. What a Friggin' Psycho

**Chapter 18**** - ****What a Friggin' Psycho.**

_**June 2009**_

Josh brought Shelby into the small gas station washroom with him, glad it was an independent room and not the multiple stall variety as he locked the door behind him. He ran the tap, planning to splash his face with water to try and clear his head but was interrupted by the sudden wave of nausea. He bolted over to the toilet, barely making it in time before retching up any remnants of his last three meals and then some.

When he finally thought he could stand without passing out, he made his way back over to the sink. The cool water on his face helped with the massive headache but did very little to get rid of the knot of grief in his stomach. He was going to miss Colby. He hadn't seen or heard from him in over six years when they had parted on really awkward terms, but when he had turned up again at that warehouse it had seemed as if those six years had been six days. Josh had been thrown instantly back into what he had considered one of his few real friendships, even if it had only lasted a couple of months.

All those years ago, when Colby had been staying with him and Lex, he had been happy thinking the kid was eventually going to get up the nerve to put the moves on his sister. To date, there hadn't been another guy besides Colby that Josh had actually deemed good enough for his little sis. Granted, he'd called that one wrong but that hadn't been Colby's fault. He was still a good guy.

Correction, _had been_ a good guy. _God, this sucked_. He leaned forward with his hands on either side of the sink and bowed his head for a long moment, fighting back the moisture he could feel welling in his lower eyelids. _Keep it together, Josh_, he scolded himself before straightening up and running a hand through his short hair.

He changed his shirt, deciding to toss the old one as he doubted the blood from the leaking stomach wound would ever wash out. He was running out of clothes, he thought ruefully as he dumped the third shirt in as many days into the trash. Damnit, he hated shopping.

He hurriedly cleaned Ella's puncture wound with water and paper towel and taped the same bandage back over it. He figured he'd better get going or Dean would no doubt hit him with some pretty-boy preening joke. Feeling steadier on his feet, he turned to leave, mumbling a sympathetic apology to Shelby who was sitting by the door watching him intently. He scratched her behind the ears for a few seconds before exiting the small washroom and making his way back around to where the Bronco was parked.

Or where the Bronco _had been_ parked. Where was his car?

He stood stunned for a fraction of a second as he stared with furrowed brow at the empty parking lot. His first thought was that Dean was ditching him but he decided no way the hunter would have stolen his wheels. Sure the guy had no scruples but he wasn't a total douche.

His next thought was much worse. Had the demons caught up with them? If so, did they have Dean? Or had the hunter just taken off to get away - and more likely to lead them away from Josh, knowing Dean. The guy just couldn't help that heroic streak he had even if he was too blind to realize how admirable a quality it was. Josh dug around in his jeans pocket for his latest phone, flipping it open and dialing Dean's number.

He heard the unmistakable sound of Surfaris's Wipe Out song floating up from the grass nearby. '_Ha ha ha ha ha ha haa …wipeout!_' Despite his spiking worry for the hunter, he couldn't help roll his eyes and groan at the ringtone Dean had apparently chosen for him. He scanned the area until he found the source of the noise, snatching Dean's phone up from the ground and flipping it open and closed to silence the very annoying song.

"Crap," he said out loud. He quickly dialed Sam's number, wondering suddenly why Sam hadn't been with them as the demons had chased them down the highway. Had he gone another way in the Impala? Hopefully the kid was alright.

_"__Josh__?"_

"Hey kid. Listen, have you spoken to Dean?"

_"Yeah, just a minute ago. Why? Isn't he with you?"_

"He was. We were at a gas station somewhere off exit 12B on some highway and I came out of the washroom and he's gone."

"_Gone?"_

Damn, Junior sounded scared. "Yeah. My Bronco's gone too. And I found his phone dumped here in the grass so I can't even call him."

There was a brief silence.

_"What's the name of the gas station? I'll be right there."_

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**A few moments ago...**_

Dean's eyes widened in surprise when Josh pointed the gun at him. He glanced downward at the weapon and confirmed the safety was indeed off. "What the…" he started to say but was cut off again.

"I said drive!" Josh repeated, jabbing the gun towards the hunter behind the wheel.

"You're possessed," Dean stammered, still refusing to start the car.

Josh let out an annoyed sigh. "Am not. Now drive or I won't think twice about shooting you, Dean."

_Yeah, no way this was Josh_. "Know what I think?" Dean's stubborn streak was at full throttle. "I think if you were going to shoot me, you would have done it already." He remembered Ella's attempts to find out what the angels' plans for Dean were and really didn't want to be subjected to any more torture. If he let this guy take him to his demon buddies, he was as good as dead and Dean was sure it would be anything but quick and painless.

Josh, or the thing wearing Josh, gave him a hard, thoughtful stare. Finally he – it – shrugged and turned the muzzle of the 9mm away from Dean, pressing it instead against Josh's chest. "Fine," it said simply. "If you're so sure I'm possessed, then you know that if I shoot, nothing happens to me but your friend here dies."

Dean glared at his passenger for a long, still moment before relenting and turning to start the Bronco's engine with a tired sigh.

_Fuck, this day just couldn't get any worse._

He was so wrong about that.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 1st, 2009 (two days before Josh gets out of jail)...**_

Alex never heard the older model SUV pull up in front of Bobby's house despite the loud squeaking of its timing chain. She was sitting at the desk down in the panic room with three of Bobby's books spread open in front of her. In the past five days, the knowledgeable older hunter had pretty much confirmed all of Ross Wilson's theories about who and what Red-Eyes was. Now they just had to figure out a way to kill an invincible Demigod-Cucui-Crocata hybrid.

She did hear the second round of loud knocking on the door and quickly shut off her music, grabbing her new Rami 9mm and tucking it in the back of her pants before heading up the stairs to see who it was. Despite being an operational business, Singer's Salvage didn't see very many customers on the premises as Bobby handled most dealings off-site. She figured it was probably McLovin. It was his day off and he had mentioned possibly swinging by to show her some crazy new app he'd downloaded to his phone. Bobby was out doing a tow and had warned her repeatedly about not answering the door unarmed, what with the looming Apocalypse and all. The old man was a total mother hen and although she would never admit it, she actually enjoyed his grumpy fussing, unable to stifle the smiles that always slipped out when she tried to roll her eyes at him. In some ways he reminded her of her father, with whom she'd always had a close relationship despite the secrets, the large amount of time he spent away on business, and the strained relationship she'd shared with her mother

Peeking out the window, she noted the unfamiliar car and caught a glimpse of blonde hair on the porch. She quickly grabbed a flask from Bobby's stash of ready-filled holy water containers and headed to the door. She wasn't getting any supernatural-radar hits, but her mojo was often unreliable.

She swung Bobby's door open wide. A pretty blonde girl about her age was standing on the porch studying her cautiously, hands on her hips.

"Hi," Alex greeted her in a hospitable tone. "You looking for Bobby?"

The girl didn't return Alex's smile, still giving her a hard and serious, though not entirely unfriendly, look.

"No, actually," she replied slowly. "I think I'm looking for you."

Alarms started ringing in Alex's head and she tensed slightly. Nobody knew she was here except the Winchesters, Ellen, and McLovin. "Who are you?" she asked cautiously. "And who do you think I am?"

"I'm Jo Harvelle," the girl answered. "And I'm pretty sure you're the person that can tell me how my Dad died."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 7th, 2009**_

When Sam skidded into the gas station in the Impala, Josh was already inside trying to smooth talk his way into getting a look at the footage of the exterior security camera from the hard-looking elderly lady behind the counter inside. He wasn't having any luck.

Sam strode through the shop door with a worried look on his face, ignoring the low growl he got from Shelby, who was sitting outside the door as if on guard. Josh brought the younger Winchester up to speed on what he had found out so far, which really wasn't much. The clerk hadn't seen anything because she had been in the back getting some more pop to stock the fridge and she was insisting they'd need a warrant to see the security footage. Sam gave her a doe-eyed look and pleaded, claiming his brother had a condition and sometimes got confused so he really needed to see which way he had gone. Within thirty seconds the woman was grabbing the stepladder to retrieve the tape from the security recording machine on the top shelf and shove it into the VCR below the counter.

Josh let out a quiet whistle of disbelief when she was out of earshot. "Geez, Big Bro wasn't kidding about the power of those puppy dog eyes, was he?"

Sam just shrugged as the woman rewound the tape a spell and turned the small TV on the counter around so Sam and Josh could see it. A minute of play showed empty parking lot before they saw the Bronco pull in, parking at the edge of the building. Sam took note of the bullet holes riddled down the driver's side and swallowed hard. They never should have split up; he never should have left Dean. A hard lump twisted in the depths of his gut, squeezing guilt and self-loathing into his blood stream to flow along with the fresh dose of demon blood he had just sucked out of Ruby's arm.

They watched as Josh got out of the SUV and went to the back, grabbing what Sam figured was clean clothes from the trunk before walking away with the dog. They could make out Dean's form in the front seat and watched him pull out his phone.

"That was me he called," Sam said, half holding his breath as he watched the video intently.

Dean put the phone down and leaned back in his chair. He sat still for a minute and the only other movement on the screen was a white pickup speeding by followed by a smaller, green car that drove by the gas station very slowly until it was out of frame. Less than a minute later, Josh strolled around from the far side of the gas station and got in the Bronco.

"That's not me," Josh exclaimed, pinching the front of his blue t-shirt to point out that the Josh on the video was wearing a white one.

"I know," said Sam, pointing to the camera flare in the dude's eyes. "Shapeshifter."

"Sure looks like you," the elderly clerk interjected.

"Uh, it's my brother," Josh explained quickly. "I have a twin."

After a few seconds, a small, dark object was tossed out of the passenger window into the grass and thirty seconds later Dean started up the Bronco and drove away. Another two minutes and the real Josh emerged from the near side of the building with Shelby, looking around with a frown on his face.

Sam pursed his lips and clenched his fists, taking a few steps back from the counter while he attempted to control his anger. A shapeshifter. A goddamn shapeshifter! Couldn't Dean get a moment's peace? And what would a shapeshifter want with his brother anyway? Netiran was resurrected already, brought back into existence to pluck the worst ratbag demons imaginable from the deepest corners of Hell at Lucifer's bidding. The seal had been opened. Why was this shapeshifter still working with the demons? _Was_ it working with the demons or did it have an agenda of its own?

He could hear Josh mumbling but his words were barely registering through Sam's fear and worry for his brother. "I don't get it," the blond man was saying quietly as he rewound the video for the second time, rewatching it again in slow motion with an intense frown. "I haven't touched anyone. Who did I touch?"

"What?" Sam said, shaking his head to bring his focus back on the task at hand, saving Dean.

"Shapeshif…I mean people like my twin," Josh threw the desk clerk a wary glance, wishing she would leave them alone for a moment, "They need to touch somebody to get a sample of their DNA."

"Do they?" Sam gave him a skeptical look. He hadn't known that, but it made sense. He was a little surprised Josh would know something he and Dean didn't and realized the Winchesters really didn't give the guy enough credit. Just because he didn't look or act like most of the hunters they knew, didn't mean he wasn't capable.

"Yeah, they do," Josh confirmed with a confident nod, still staring at the video. "I was trying to think who I've touched…there!" He hit the pause button on the remote, freezing the screen on the green car that had passed by very slowly. The driver was leaning over towards the passenger window to get a better look at the gas station. "Recognize him?"

Sam squinted at the screen. "It's the guy who broke the salt line in the lab at the school for the demons to get in and attack Dean and me. I thought at the time I'd seen him before, but…" He shook his head, still not sure why the man looked familiar.

"It's the dude from Ella's sister's house," Josh informed him. "I shook his hand on the porch. He was with the shritga that killed her, remember?"

Recognition struck Sam. "Yeah, you're right." So this was still all tied in with the ritual and Lillith's demons. He shook his head. "But I still don't see how this helps Dean. He's you now."

"Who's Ella?" The store clerk was giving them an uncomfortable and extremely suspicious look at the mention of demons and killing someone.

"Uh," Josh cursed himself for momentarily forgetting to censor his comments. "Ella's my dog," he floundered, pointing to the glass door where Shelby was sitting. "It was a neighborly dispute, it's not important. Listen, thank-you for all your help Ma'am," he added politely, straightening up to leave.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," Sam added, throwing in a half-hearted sad puppy look for good measure. "I'm pretty sure I know where our brothers went so thanks."

Outside, Sam quickly turned and walked around to the windowless side of the small building. Sure enough, there in the back corner, was a pile of goop on the asphalt. "This is where he changed into you," he announced unnecessarily. He spun on his heel and strode hastily towards the Impala but stopped when he noticed Josh was heading across the parking lot towards the cluster of trees near the street. He jogged the few steps to catch up with him. "Where are you going?"

"The shapeshifter must have parked his car somewhere close," Josh replied, not slowing down. "I'm guessing it's just behind those trees."

"Okay," Sam agreed. "But I still don't see how this helps Dean. He's not that guy anymore, he looks like you. We need to find _your_ car."

Josh winced. "I'm sorry, bro," he said apologetically. "I don't have my ride lojacked and we can't track your brother's cell because it's here." He held up Dean's phone. "We have no way of finding the Bronco."

Sam swallowed as he realized finding Dean wasn't going to be easy. He wracked his brain trying to figure out what to do but gritted his teeth in frustration when no ideas came to him. Ruby couldn't even find Dean with her scrolling. The last time she had done so when Cas and Uriel had kidnapped him, she had actually been using the mojo of the angels and Alistair to find _them_. Dean had no mojo. "What do you have in mind?" he conceded, hoping Josh had a plan.

"I dunno, really. If we find this thing's car, maybe we'll find a clue to where he took your brother." Josh stopped walking and turned to face Sam. "I know it's not much but I've got no other ideas." He gave Sam a sudden thoughtful look and Sam could almost see the light bulb hovering over Josh's head. "Unless Dean's angel can help find him!"

Sam shook his head and kept walking. "We can't wait for that. We have no way of contacting Cas and honestly, we don't even know if he's still alive."

"What do you mean?"

"He tried to fight Netiran and got zapped somewhere or something."

"Netty can take out an angel?" Josh grimaced.

"Looks that way."

"Wow, that sucks. I really wanted to meet an angel."

They rounded the clump of trees to find the small, green sedan parked at the curb as suspected. It was unlocked and the hunters made quick work of rooting through the glove box and trunk for anything of interest.

"Car's registered to a Misha Skerritt," Sam read from the car's ownership papers. "I got his address." He tucked the paper in his pocket and kept looking.

"There's a bag of salt in the trunk," Josh announced. "It's summer, what would he need salt for? Think the guy could have been a hunter?"

Sam looked skeptical. "Driving this? Not likely." He rooted through a bag on the floor in the front of the car. "I got a security guard uniform," he said, hauling it out and reading the tag aloud. "Minion Security." He let out an exasperated sigh, tossing the clothes back into the car. "That's it. That's all there is."

Josh pulled his head out of the trunk and folded the rear seats back up. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, bro. I have no more ideas."

"Well I do," Sam said with renewed determination. "Until we get something else, we go with what we've got. I'm not giving up yet."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Alex's heart skipped a beat upon hearing the girl's name and any wariness she had been experiencing was quickly redirected to the knot of guilt in her stomach. She had really liked Ellen but had honestly hoped never to run into her again after having overheard how Bill Harvelle had died. Of course, if the prospect of facing the dead hunter's wife was unpleasant, facing his daughter was mortifying.

Jo must have picked up on the involuntary gasp Alex let out at the introduction for she backed off a step, pursing her lips and giving Alex an apologetic look. "I take it you're Alex?" she asked in a more friendly tone.

"Uh, yeah," Alex answered, pulling her game face back on and cursing herself for getting caught off guard. She stood aside, holding the front door open. "Come on in."

Jo nodded, stepping into Bobby's living room but stopping as most newcomers did to take a wide-eyed look around. The stacks and stacks of books all over the place screamed 'mad librarian' but the giant heptagram visible on the ceiling of the den was the showstopper.

"Nice, huh?" Alex grinned, noting the reaction. "I call it the Hunter Motif. Fung Shui, Bobby style."

Jo laughed, effectively breaking the ice. Feeling a little more hopeful that Ellen's daughter wasn't here to accuse her of getting her father killed, Alex offered her a guest a beer – one of Bobby's holy-water spiked beers just to be safe. She popped open a can of Coke for herself and sat down at the kitchen counter, deciding to get right to the point.

"So what can I do for you?" she asked.

Jo sat down on the stool across the counter from Alex, looking her straight in the eye. "My mom was here last week," she explained. "She was acting kinda strange when she came home and when I pushed she finally told me she'd met the little girl that my Dad was trying to save when he died."

Alex quickly averted her eyes. "Yeah," she confirmed quietly. "That was me."

"Well, that's all she would tell me so I'm here to find out the rest."

"What do you want to know?" Alex asked with a reluctant sigh.

"What killed him. What happened."

She was impressed with Jo's directness. Jo was a very pretty girl but certainly had a bit of a tough chick vibe, something Alex herself never seemed to be able to pull off even when she tried. Alex had no doubt this chick had as many weapons as Dean did hidden under her clothes. It was clear she wasn't going to be deterred easily, but Alex didn't want to talk about that night seventeen years ago.

She had been saying she didn't remember much about it for so long that she had almost convinced herself it was the truth. She had confided in Josh at the time, telling him what had happened while her parents were arguing with one another about what to do with their daughter showing up on the doorstep at three a.m. covered in something or someone's blood. Josh had told her parents and they had proceeded to argue some more about whether or not she was telling the truth. Her uncle had questioned her about it a couple of days later but she had clammed up and after that the family quickly relocated to Santa Cruz and it was never mentioned again. Thirteen-year-old Josh had been upset at having to move and had called her a troublemaker for the first and only time in his life. He apologized later but once had been enough and she had then started to lie about Red-Eyes to everyone, covering up bruises and hiding injuries he caused, blaming any visible ones on clumsiness.

This week, however, with her recent discovery of the identity of both hunters from that night, Alex had been plagued by a frequent recounting of the horrible moments she could remember in her head. She really didn't want to say them out loud, especially to the daughter of the man who had been ripped apart.

"I don't remember much," she lied. "I was only eight."

"And I was seven," Jo rebutted evenly. "My seventh birthday to be exact. And I remember every detail of that day. I remember my Mom falling to the floor with the phone still in her hand. I remember her crying 'no! no! no!'. I remember her squeezing me so tight I thought my ribs were gonna crack. I remember that was the last morning we ever had blueberry pancakes for breakfast because they were my Dad's favourite." She paused for a moment and Alex could feel the other girl studying her intently.

"I just need to know what happened," Jo said finally. "Wouldn't you want to know?"

Alex refrained from admitting that she would most certainly rather _not_ know why her own parents were dead, since that too had been her fault. She finally met Jo's gaze and slowly nodded her head. Ellen hadn't asked about it so she apparently hadn't _needed_ to know but Jo was obviously far more determined. She seemed the type to be able to handle the truth and not a sugar-coated version, so for the first time in seventeen years, Alex told the unabridged, uncensored story.

The two hunters had shown up at her school, approaching her while she waited alone in the corner of the playground for her brother to show up and keep her company until their Mom arrived to pick them up. They had convinced her they could stop Red-Eyes from coming around but that she couldn't tell anyone. She made a point to mention to her captivated audience that Bill had been really nice and friendly and that she remembered he smiled a lot. He had somehow convinced an eight-year-old to sneak out her bedroom window after the rest of the family had gone to bed. He and John had been waiting on the street and had driven her to a big, open place with a lake and lots of concrete.

"The Devil's Gate Reservoir?" Jo interrupted.

"I don't know," Alex shrugged. "Like I said, I was eight." She continued her story, adding as much detail as she could and surprising herself by how much she actually remembered now that she was allowing herself to think about that night. "They drew stuff on the concrete and covered it with wood and branches and wanted me to sit in the middle of it all while they hid and waited for him to show up."

Alex paused, remembering the next part with vivid clarity and her mouth involuntarily clamped shut, her motor skills suddenly unwilling to cooperate.

"And?" Jo pressed.

"And…and I was scared," she admitted finally. "I was crying and I didn't want to sit there alone if he was gonna come." To Jo's credit, the younger blonde didn't push but waited patiently for Alex to continue. "So your Dad came to sit with me."

"So that part's basically true," Jo breathed, with no hint of blame or anger. "He was the bait."

Encouraged slightly by the lack of animosity, Alex forced herself to go on. "Yeah, he stayed with me so I guess we were both the bait."

"And what happened?"

Alex winced. "I think you know what happened next, Jo."

"I need details."

Alex leaned back and ran her hands through her hair. "Why would you want details?" she said in an almost pleading tone. She paused again but Jo held her gaze expectantly. "Fine," she relented. "Red-Eyes showed up, he realized what was going on, and he killed your Dad."

She noticed Jo swallow but her guest maintained an impressive brave front.

"How did he realize what was going on?" the youngest Harvelle asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"How?" Alex pondered the question. She had been too young to understand or remember the plan or whatever ritual or exorcism the hunters had attempted. "I guess he saw them and put two and two together."

"When did John Winchester jump out?"

Alex wrinkled her forehead, not sure why that detail in particular would be of importance. "Uh, he came charging in right as your Dad got….right when your Dad died."

"He didn't blow the cover by coming in too early?" Jo seemed determined with this line of questioning.

"I don't know," Alex shrugged. "I know he wasn't happy about your Dad's decision to sit with me. Maybe he came in beforehand. I really don't remember. I'm sorry."

Jo nodded in thoughtful acceptance. "Okay," she conceded before continuing. "What happened to my Dad? How did your Red-Eyes kill him?"

Alex was caught a little off guard by the question, or rather, the horror of answering it. "You really don't want details of that," she stammered. "Trust me."

"I already know he was torn to shreds," Jo supplied candidly. "Can you at least tell me if he was fully dead when Red-Eyes left?"

Alex could tell Jo was fishing for particular information with her specific line of questioning but couldn't for the life of her figure out what the angle was. She remembered vividly the moment Bill Harvelle died, even if she had only been eight. Red-Eyes had indeed torn him to shreds just as Jo had said. He had then tossed the hunter down on the ground in front of her with a nasty snarl, hissing "_Not good, Little One_" before disappearing.

"Yes," she answered truthfully. "He was very definitely dead. Why do you ask that?"

Jo actually looked slightly relieved. "No reason," she answered quickly.

Maybe the girl just needed to know her father hadn't suffered a long, painful death. "It was messy," Alex said carefully, "but it was quick."

"What did John do?"

"He put your Dad in the car and drove me home."

"Did he…did he fire his weapon after Red-Eyes left?"

"Of course not," Alex answered, confused. "Why would he?"

"No reason." This time it was Jo who averted her eyes, staring around Bobby's kitchen like it was the most interesting room there ever was.

Alex noticed the girl's cheekbones twitching and realized her guest was a lot more upset than she was letting on. Her guilt meter once again spiked. Being the reason her parents were dead was something that had weighed very heavily on Alex every day. No matter what happened in her life, she couldn't escape that burden. Then there was the armed robber in the alley and now his partner to feel responsible for. She could manage to deal with that one because, as Bobby kept reminding her, they weren't exactly innocent bystanders. But until recently, the other person that was dead directly because of her had been a nameless stranger. Now seeing that man's daughter struggling to keep her composure and remembering the hurt in Ellen's voice less than a week ago, Alex own composure began to falter.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted. "To you and your Mom. If I hadn't been so scared, maybe he wouldn't have died. Maybe…"

"Hey," Jo cut her off with a surprised look on her face. "This isn't your fault. I don't blame you. You were eight years old. Of course you were scared. Look, you didn't kill my Dad; that evil Hellspawn did."

Alex took a deep breath, relief flooding through her as she gave Jo a grateful smile. "I'm still sorry you lost your Dad."

"Yeah, me too," Jo agreed. "But this is the closest I've ever come to being able to find he thing that took him away from us, from me and my Mom. So I need to know what you've found out about him. What he is and how to kill him."

Alex remembered the email from Ellen, telling Bobby that she had deliberately kept information about this particular monster from her daughter so Jo didn't make any attempts to go after it. Jo may be tough and was probably a capable hunter, but it was Alex's place to kill Red-Eyes, not hers. Nobody else was going to die so Alex could be safe.

So she looked Jo in the eye and lied. It was relatively easy as lying pretty much came as second nature to her by this point. She had, after all, been doing it for most of her life.

"I haven't figured out anything yet," she said. "I know a bunch of stuff that doesn't work but nothing yet that does. Bobby and I are working on it but we just have no clues as to what he is."

Jo looked crestfallen. "You must have some leads at least?"

Alex shook her head. She truthfully listed out everything that she had tried over the years that hadn't worked, which was quite an extensive list. "He just seems impervious to it all," she concluded, an apologetic look on her face.

Jo drained her beer with slumped shoulders and sat back on her stool, clearly disappointed. "Well, I suppose I'd better get back on the road," she said. "My mom doesn't know I'm even here." She glanced over at Alex. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it."

"Not a problem," Alex agreed quickly. She was perfectly content to keep up the ruse that she didn't know the hunter who had died had been Bill Harvelle. Less chance of having to have some emo talk about it later.

"I swear she thinks I'm still a little kid," Jo continued, rolling her eyes.

Alex grinned. "Your mom's awesome."

Jo answered back with a snort. "She treats me like I'm twelve years old. You know she only hunts because she doesn't think I can do it alone?"

"I think it'd be totally cool to have your mom hunt with you."

"Hmph. Trust me, it's not as cool as it sounds. Try getting some intel out of a guy with your mom glaring at him over your shoulder. Or shooting at a poltergeist while she keeps planting herself in front of you."

Alex laughed. She'd run into the same problems with Josh plenty of times. "Kinda overprotective, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm twenty-four years old and last month she locked me in a motel bathroom because she thought my plan to ambush a Berkonge was too _reckless_." She rolled her eyes after doing a really great Ellen imitation with the word reckless.

"Ooh, okay, that sounds kinda bad," Alex admitted, realizing Jo's issues with her mother had probably been building for a while and she was just venting her frustration. She was actually envious of the girl; she would love to have her own mother around to complain about. She and her Mom hadn't enjoyed a smooth relationship by any means, but she'd loved both her parents anyway. It had been clear Ellen thought the world of Jo, even if she did apparently hold on a little too tight.

"Your Mom is proud of you," she ventured.

"Yeah, some of the time. The rest of the time she thinks I'm incompetent, that I'm gonna get myself killed just like my Dad."

"She just doesn't want to lose you," Alex argued. "That's a good thing. My mom tried her hardest to make me disappear she was so ashamed of me. She tried to have me committed more than once and the only time we didn't argue was when she didn't speak to me for a full month because I refused to go to my debutante's ball. She once introduced my brother at some elitist shindig she was hosting as her only child while I was standing right there."

Jo gave her a long, appalled stare, making Alex instantly regret her spontaneous over-sharing.

"Ouch. Okay, you got me beat," Jo said simply. "Point taken. I know as far as mom's go, mine ain't half bad."

Alex laughed, trying to lighten the mood and feeling guilty about speaking ill of her own mother.

"Actually, she's pretty much the best," Jo continued with a smile. "I just get frustrated sometimes. Though I do have a question for you."

"What's that?"

"What exactly is a debutante's ball?"

Alex let out a sigh of embarrassment, trying to imagine what a girl raised in a rural, Nebraska bar full of hunters would think of the social practices of California's upper crust. "Uh, it's this kind of coming out social event where a young girl gets formally introduced into society. You have to get some guy with adequate social standing to walk you out and you dress up in a designer dress and…" She cut herself off at the incredulous look on Jo's face.

"Seriously?" was all Jo said, clearly trying to stifle laughter.

Alex completely agreed with the sheer absurdity of the antiquated ceremony and burst out laughing at Jo's expression. The younger blonde quickly followed suit and the two enjoyed a moment's lighthearted hilarity.

"You still don't talk to your parents?" Jo asked finally.

"Uh no," Alex stammered, remembering that Ellen hadn't told Jo much about her. "They died when I was a teenager."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Jo said with genuine sympathy. "That must have been rough. I mean, I know I complain about her but I was really lucky I still had my Mom."

"I did alright," Alex said with a dismissive wave. "I still had my brother. He's always been there for me; he's the best. You'd like him."

"Where is he now?"

"Fort Worth Prison."

"Huh. Yeah, I probably would like him," Jo grinned.

"So howcome you've never been here before?" Alex asked. "I got the impression Bobby and Ellen were good friends."

"They are. They met about two or three years ago but I was away at the time. Let's just say my Mom and I needed some time apart. By the time she started hunting with me, Bobby had crawled inside a bottle. You know, because of Dean dying an' all. He didn't come back out 'til Dean came topside again."

Alex felt a rush of compassion for kind, generous Bobby. It had previously occurred to her that hunters were generally a whiskey-loving bunch and she had yet to see Bobby drink so much as a drop, but she hadn't thought much about it. Despite generally avoiding the subject of the Winchester brothers, she could tell the extent of the older mechanic's love for them. They might as well be his own sons. It was upsetting to think of how much pain Bobby must have felt when Dean had been in Hell. The insight about the drinking gave her a little more clarity of what the poor man had gone through.

It was Jo who spoke next. "Speaking of Dean," she gave Alex a sly grin. "were you and him, you know," she wagged her index finger between Alex and an empty stool, "...a thing?"

Alex snorted, returning the grin. "No, not exactly. You?"

Jo rolled her eyes. "Hell no. Not even close. Never even kissed the guy."

Alex couldn't help but remember what kissing Dean had felt like. There really weren't words that could do that feeling justice. The man had mad skills. "Well," she laughed, "I highly recommend it."

"That good, huh?"

"Trust me," Alex nodded vigorously. "if you ever get the chance, take it."

"I'll put it on my bucket list," Jo mocked with no small amount of sarcasm. "Kiss Dean Winchester."

That was the moment Alex noticed the hint of wistfulness in Jo's words. The underlying glint of legitimate feelings she had clearly been harbouring for quite some time. Suddenly feeling awkward, she decided to change the subject.

"Speaking of kissing, your mother's single, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Jo asked with a confused frown, clearly not following Alex's train of thought.

"Well, you know, Bobby Singer is quite a catch," Alex pitched. "He owns his own legitimate business. He's one of the most knowledgeable hunters in the game. He's as loyal as they come." She counted off Bobby's attributes on her fingers. "He speaks seven languages, including Japanese. He even takes in strays," she smiled, pointing to herself. "You know he owns all the way down to the lake on the West and down to the highway on the East?"

Jo laughed and shook her head, rising from her seat in preparation to leave. "You don't have to sell me. But parents are pigheaded when it comes to dating. My Mom hasn't had a serious romantic relationship since my Dad died. She'd never get involved with another hunter, anyway."

Alex shrugged her reluctant agreement to the unlikelihood of a Bobby-Ellen hookup and stood also. "Too bad; they'd be awesome together. Maybe someday. Stranger things have happened, you know."

Jo handed her a small piece of paper. "My cell number," she explained. "Let me know whenever you find something out about Red-Eyes. Text me your digits and I'll do the same."

Alex took the paper with an agreeable nod, not feeling guilty about the deceit. "Yeah, sure," she lied. "I'll do that."

"And promise me one thing," Jo stopped and turned to give her an earnest stare. "Swear you'll let me know when you decide to take him down. I need to be there. Promise me."

Alex hesitated. That she couldn't do. "I'm sorry," she admitted, shaking her head. "But I'm not going to call you. I don't want you there."

Surprise followed quickly by anger swallowed Jo's face, pulling her pleasant features into a scowl. Her voice grew harsh and she practically spat her reply at Alex. "What? I think you owe me the courtesy of letting me be there, don't you? It killed _my_ father."

"Yeah," Alex said slowly but deliberately, "but I think I more owe your Dad the courtesy of _not_ having you there."

Jo narrowed her eyes. "I can handle myself."

"So could your Dad," Alex fired back, not backing down on this one.

The tense silence that followed was broken by a knock at the door. Alex practically ran to answer it, glad for the interruption and not really caring that she had left the holy water flask on Bobby's kitchen counter. She swung it open to find McLovin standing there, grinning as he pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

"Hi Lex," he chirped cheerfully, stepping in without waiting for an invite. He glanced over to see Jo standing a few feet away.

"Whoa," he stammered, going practically bug-eyed at the sight of the second attractive blonde. "Hi. Whoa."

"This is Jo," Alex introduced. "And this is, uh…Dave," she said with uncertainty, trying to remember if that was indeed the kid's real name.

McLovin stepped eagerly up to Jo, extending his hand. "I go by McLovin now," he squeaked, pushing at his glasses again and grinning from ear to ear as he stared at her. His head was nodding quickly in that barely perceptible manner that it always did when he was either nervous or trying to look cool. "Whoa," he repeated. "Hey!" he exclaimed, spinning back around to face Alex. "Are you two having a sleepover?"

Alex groaned and rolled her eyes. "Dude, you know girls don't have pillowfights wearing nothing but lingerie, right? That's just in movies." She looked towards Jo, who was staring at the newcomer as if he had three heads. "Jo was just heading out."

Jo took that as her cue and headed to the door. She turned as she got to the top of the steps. "I think you should reconsider," she said sincerely. "But either way, be careful."

"You too." Alex gave her a solemn wave and watched her get in the old Jeep and drive off, not quite sure what she was feeling at the moment. She couldn't let Jo be there. It was too dangerous. Too many people had already died facing Red-Eyes. When the time came, she had decided she was going to do it herself.

But until then, she was going to keep her brother as far away from her as possible. He would be paroled the day after tomorrow with no more warrants and no more need to live like this. She turned to McLovin.

"You off tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tonight and tomorrow," he answered, his eyes widening in obvious hopes of making plans with the blonde.

"Wanna go for a drive?"

"Where to?"

"Nebraska. I need to catch Sam and Dean before they move motels again."

A look of pure joy spread across the kid's face. "Dean?"

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**June 7th, 1009**_

"So what is this place?" Dean asked, obediently following his captor's directions and pulling into an empty parking lot after about twenty minutes of driving in near silence. He had been wracking his brain trying to think of a way out of this situation that didn't end up with him, Josh, or both of them dead. So far, he hadn't found one. The prick sitting in the passenger seat was actually humming, the 9mm still pressed up against its own chest.

_What a friggin' psycho._

Dean switched off the engine and waited for an answer to his question. Not-Josh looked over at him and grinned in an eerily friendly manner. "A stopover," it informed the hunter, gesturing with the gun for him to get out. "Need to stash my goods somewhere safe."

A thought occurred to Dean that Josh had been carrying Dean's own .45 when he had gone into the washroom. Where then had this demon picked up the unfamiliar 9mm Glock it was carrying now? It wasn't Josh's 'multi-purpose gun' or the extra Beretta he had been packing earlier; Sam had tossed both of those in the back of the Impala before driving off. Not yet sure what this revelation could mean, he stored the information away in the back of his mind and got out of the driver's side.

There was no use running while out in the open like this as he likely wouldn't make it ten feet before getting a bullet in the back so he waited obediently while Not-Josh came around the front of the Bronco and gestured for him to toss the car keys over. Dean grudgingly did so and his captor waved him towards the building.

The building was an expensive-looking fine dining restaurant that appeared to be closed. Of course, it was barely six-thirty on a Sunday morning so that wasn't surprising. What was a bit unusual was that it didn't appear to be a typical demon hideout. They tended to use abandoned buildings or warehouses where people could scream and bleed without attracting the attention of local law-enforcement. Dean wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or not but made his way to the front doors and turned around to wait for more instructions.

Not-Josh was a few paces behind him, well out of fast-move disarmament range, and still smiling. It wasn't Josh's usual dimpled smile though and it was getting on Dean's nerves. "What's so frickin' funny?" he griped.

"Well," the man answered, "for what started out to be a really crappy day, things are looking up."

"How's that?"

"Having Dean Winchester in my possession, for one thing. And your friend here's quite interesting too."

"Josh? Interesting?" Dean scoffed. "That'll be the day. Guy's a nobody. He's got outstanding warrants, you know. That means Police chasing you. Not to mention God knows how many gifts that keep on giving from the skanks he spends time with. You really don't want to be inside him for very long." The hunter knew it was a long shot, but the less hospitable he could make Josh seem, the sooner the demon would likely move on, hopefully leaving Josh alive when it did so. He smirked to himself, half-hoping his friend was aware inside there and hearing his comments.

His captor handed him a set of keys and gestured for him to open the door, laughing good naturedly as the hunter did so. This demon seemed different from most, Dean realized. Strangely, it seemed more human.

"He's done his time," it continued, referring again to Josh. "There are no outstanding warrants. And he's clean. Surprising, given his history, but he's clean. And a nobody, he most certainly isn't." It followed Dean inside, jabbing the gun towards the kitchen to indicate where it wanted him to go. "He's a do-gooder fool and a clueless moron, but he's got a lot of potential."

Dean snorted, his hunter's instincts on high alert for an opportunity of escape or exorcism. Neither was looking very likely. He could feel the bulk of Ruby's knife in the back of his pants but couldn't bring himself to use it. He thought about Cas's words in the hospital after Alistair had half-killed him. '_The Righteous Man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it ... Our fate rests with you_.' The whole world was at stake here. Keeping himself alive should be a higher priority than keeping his friend alive.

_Should be._ But Dean just wasn't put together that way. Of course, maybe that's why the demons had chosen him for The Righteous Man – because they knew he didn't have what it takes to stop the Apocalypse. Like he had told Cas, it was too big; they needed to find someone else, someone more worthy. Everyone was screwed because they were relying on him to save the day. The only one who seemed to think he had the stuff to pull this off was Cas and Dean's angel savior might be dead. Even Sam didn't think he could do it. He may not come right out and say it without a siren pulling his strings, but Dean knew Sam had lost pretty much all of the undying faith in his big brother he'd had when they were younger.

Josh's voice snapped him out of his train of thought. "Open the freezer door."

"What the Hell for?" Dean asked warily, not liking where this seemed to be headed. The freezer was clearly a walk-in, with a solid stainless steel door that had a giant, steel handle.

"Don't worry," came the taunting reply. "You won't be in there for long. Just until I negotiate the terms of a new deal."

"I'm not going in there period," Dean argued obstinately, folding his arms across his chest in protest. "Whatever you want with me, do it out here man."

"Do we have to go through this again?" Not-Josh once again turned the gun on itself, pressing the muzzle over its heart.

"You won't kill him," Dean said, praying he was right. "You just said he has a lot of potential."

The blond man looked annoyed and Dean realized he had successfully called the thing's bluff. He wondered what possible use a demon could have for Josh as it moved over to the freezer door and yanked the handle upwards, a loud clanging noise sounding before the door swung open.

Dean took a step backwards. His mind churned but he gritted his teeth in annoyance when he still couldn't think of a way to get away without having to use Ruby's knife on Josh. Maybe if he stabbed it in the leg the demon would get out and Josh would live. It had worked when Sam had shot their Dad in the leg with the Colt after the Yellow-Eyed Demon had possessed him...

He hadn't made up his mind when it suddenly lunged at him, taking him by surprise as it punched him hard in the face and wrapped a strong arm around his neck from behind while he was reeling from the blow. He jabbed his elbow backwards into the man's gut but felt very little reaction as the far stronger being wrestled the hunter roughly towards the freezer door.

He kicked and grunted as he tried to shake himself free but his captor was simply too strong. Amid the violent struggle, Dean slipped a hand around behind him and curled his fingers around the hilt of Ruby's knife.

He hesitated. _Goddamnit, he didn't want to lose another friend. This guy was Lex's brother, for Christ's sake._

His fingers let go and instead reached forward to grab the jamb of the freezer door as Not-Josh tried to force him through it. His feet kicked out against the doorframe and for a second he thought he was gaining some ground as they both moved back a step. The arm around his neck loosened for an instant before another hand grabbed him by the back of the skull and rammed his head forward into the heavy steel doorframe.

He imagined rather than felt his body go limp for a split second while his vision threw blurred blotches of blinding light at him before returning to a bleary semi-normal state. He realized too late that the demon had managed to get him through the doorway and was now dropping him onto the cold floor just inside the freezer. He rolled over to see the blond man stepping back towards the door. Desperate to not be left in here slowly turning into a human popsicle until Lillith's minions showed up to torture him, he kicked out, not at the demon but instead at the door, trying to slow the thing's escape until he could get back on his feet and keep fighting.

The door slammed shut and by the time the demon turned back around to throw him an impatient scowl, Dean was on his feet. "You're not leaving me in here you son of a bitch."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_Hope y'all caught the little shout out to Misha's Minions. :-) BTW, if any of you have ever seen Misha Collins's guest-star appearance in an episode of the show Nip-Tuck, you HAVE to watch it. It is hilarious, lol._

_Next chap: Hurt!Dean...hurt!Dean...hurt!Dean... some worried!Sam... oh, and we find out what happened to Cas..._


	19. You're Not a Bad Looking Guy

**Chapter 19**** - ****You're Not a Bad Looking Guy**

Dean didn't waste any time. His captor hadn't expected him to be back on his feet so he lunged immediately to use the small advantage he had gained. He pushed it backwards, slamming it up against the now-closed freezer door before turning to grab something heavy from the closest steel shelf unit and swinging it as hard as he could at his foe's head. The object turned out to be a giant, frozen, side of beef but it impacted with an unpleasant thud, knocking the blond man sideways away from the door.

Dean dropped the beef and made a dash for the exit. He had a grip on the handle and was about to yank the door open when the tenacious sonofabitch grabbed him from behind again, this time by the shirt collar. The hunter figured it would be expecting him to pull forward so instead he shoved backwards against it, pushing harder when he felt its bulk giving way. He forced it a few steps back, slamming it into another of the steel shelf racks loaded with boxes and tubs of frozen restaurant food, shaking them in the process and knocking a few boxes to the floor.

Its grip on his shirt collar, however, never loosened. Dean tried to pull away but found himself jerked sideways before a second hand grabbed his shoulder and flung him through the air. He crashed into the rear wall of the large freezer face first and felt at least two ribs crack as the wind was forced out of him. He managed to get his arm up in front of his face but that didn't help him when he bounced off the wall and slammed the back of his head into a shelf corner on his way to the floor.

He was still gasping for air when he saw the blond man coming at him again. The annoying smirk from earlier was gone, replaced instead by a vicious scowl.

"You're really starting to piss me off!" Not-Josh snarled at him before planting a hard kick in the hunter's stomach. It was all Dean could do to protect his cracked ribs with his forearms as his superstrong assailant landed a second and a third in rapid succession.

"First you kill my wife!" _Kick__**. **_"Then you kill the demon I made my deal with!" _Kick__**.**_ "Now you think you're gonna deprive me of the two things I managed to salvage from this fucked up mess?"

It pulled its foot back for another kick. Dean didn't have time to get on his feet but knew he couldn't take another blow and still have a chance of getting out of here so he reached his hand behind him and grabbed the first thing he felt. It turned out to be a rolling pin but he didn't care. It was either that or Ruby's knife and he couldn't...not yet...things weren't desperate enough yet...

He swung it hard, only able to reach the man's legs from his position on the floor, but heard a satisfying crack when it slammed into the side of its knee. He quickly followed up with a boot to its groin, rolling away while his attacker doubled over with a cry of pain.

He was so close. So close to getting to his feet and past the demon to the door. So close but, as know-it-all Sam was always telling him, close only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades. _Sometimes that kid really did know it all_. He was grabbed again as he dashed around his captor, this time by the neck, and was flung high in the air towards the tall shelf-unit closest to the door.

He was grateful for the cardboard boxes lining the top two shelves as he slammed into them with a brutal force that would surely have killed him had it been the shelf below with the solid metal mincing and dicing equipment. The entire shelf unit actually toppled over when the hunter struck it, dragging boxes and equipment and a banged up hunter down with it. Once again, Dean's knack of finding the hardest object around to whack his head against came through for him and the metal door greeted his head with a welcoming thwack just behind his right temple.

Slightly dazed and in an immense amount of pain, he struggled to clamber out of the mess of shelves and boxes but couldn't find the floor under his feet. He realized the shelf unit was wedged up against the door at a forty-five degree angle so, even though he was touching his point of escape, he couldn't get the door open. At least not before the prick that was advancing towards him reached him. He managed to stand, stepping out of the tangled mess and swaying slightly from the effect of his newest head wound. He backed away from the angry-looking Josh.

"Okay, let's go back to being pleasant," he quipped in a friendly, hopeful tone. He far preferred psycho-creepy demon to this new angry-mean demon. He could feel the warmth of his own blood running down the side of his head and neck, a sharp contrast to the coldness of the room.

It planted itself between Dean and the door but stopped, its scowl lessening some. Encouraged, Dean tried to reason further with it. "For starters, dude, back in the school lab, if that demon chick was your wife, you should know it wasn't me that killed her. It was the angel." Actually, Dean was fairly certain it was Sam who had taken out the female in the lab but he wasn't about to mention that. Cas could take the heat for this one.

"My wife wasn't killed in the lab," Not-Josh spat back. "And I don't care if it was you that pulled the trigger or one of your degenerate friends, she's still dead."

The phrase 'pulled the trigger' registered in Dean's brain as odd because they hadn't shot any demons dead since they lost the Colt over a year ago. He kept talking, trying to distract his opponent long enough for him to clear his vision and come up with a new plan. "So what are the two things you salvaged from this?" he pressed, relieved to see the demon's violent temper seemed to be abating.

Josh's face broke out in a smile again, though not the blond man's usual dimpled grin. "Well, first of all, there's you," he gloated. "Dean Winchester is in pretty high demand right now. You'll bring me the free pass I lost when you assholes killed my wife and the demon we made the deal with."

"Free pass?"

"Yeah. A post apocalypse '_I'm off limits_' card. Just in case your side loses."

"What if we win?" Dean countered.

"Well then I'm no worse off than I was before, am I?" came the terse reply. "I've been hunted by your kind for centuries. I don't see you offering up any deals if I help you out."

"Okay," Dean stalled. He was regaining his breath but still didn't see a way past his enemy to the door, which was now blocked with a huge steel shelf rack anyway. "What's the other thing?"

"What other thing?"

"The other thing you managed to salvage, genius."

It laughed again. "Well that would be your buddy here," it said, turning its index fingers inward to indicate Josh.

Dean frowned. "You mentioned that before. What the Hell does he have that's so special? He a psychic too?" Did Josh have a mojo just like Lex only didn't know it?

"A psychic? You mean like his freak sister?" It rolled its blue eyes. "Hell no. Though I will admit it seems to be taking forever to get the memories out of him. I can usually do a full recupe in an hour tops. I was this guy for half the day yesterday trying to figure out where you were holed up and I'm just now starting to get to the good stuff. He's got some freaky ass DNA."

"Huh?" Dean wasn't sure what was meant by that but the cogs suddenly started to click into place. The unfamiliar 9mm instead of the gun Josh had been carrying. This thing acquiring Josh's memories. "You're not a demon," he said slowly. "You're a shapeshifter."

The shifter seemed momentarily annoyed at being exposed but then shrugged. "Took you long enough. I don't know why your friend here thinks so highly of you. I must say, so far, I'm not impressed."

Dean groaned. "So when you first got in the car, if you had shot yourself, you wouldn't have done any harm to Josh at all."

"Nope," came the reply with a smirk attached.

"How'd you follow us? We lost your demon buddies on the highway." Dean hoped his stalling efforts were not too obvious.

"I was following you both on the highway but the gutless car I was in lost you when you made that exit and I didn't. Thought I was screwed until a couple of miles later, ta da! There you are again, popping right back onto the highway out of nowhere, two cars ahead of me." He looked immensely pleased at the fortuitous coincidence.

"So you're a shapeshifter who married a demon?"

He snorted. "That's disgusting. My wife was my kind."

They had only killed one shapeshifter today. Well, only one _so far__._ "Kim, the shapeshifter in the circle."

"Give the man a cigar."

"Okay, so what do you want with Josh? He doesn't have anything you'd want."

"Ha! He really hasn't told you much, Dean. Surprising, 'cause he likes you, you know, despite what you did to his sister." He clucked and shook his head at the hunter. "Now that was pretty low. Can't say I'd be quite so forgiving."

Dean subtly reached behind him and curled his fingers around Ruby's knife again. He was pretty sure the blade was silver. This was going to be easy, after all. The shifter kept right on talking.

"Of course, Josh is such a deadbeat. I mean, what a fucking waste. He has well over half a million reasons that I'd be interested in him, only I can't seem to grab the elusive memory of how to get them out of the fucking Cayman account he and his sister stashed them in when they went on the run."

That caught Dean's attention and the hunter stopped short for a second. "Whoa, wait a minute. Half a million what? Dollars?"

Another sick laugh. "Yep. And a seventy foot yacht and a damn big house in Santa Cruz. This loser could be living it up and instead he lives like a goddamn pauper, renting crappy apartments, working dead-end jobs, and driving that piece of shit Bronco while he lets his two free-loading friends live in his house and on his boat. All for his pain-in-the-ass sister's sake. I say let the red-eyed bastard kill the bitch and start living it up. With these looks and that bank account, I'll be knee deep in hot ass and cold drinks until the Apocalypse does finally roll around."

Dean was taken aback by the revelation about the Brentons. He knew they had a chunk of money but hadn't realized they were shit-ass loaded. They didn't seem stuck up like most well-to-do people he had known. Bela, for one, came to mind. Not that it mattered, anyway, he figured - it was just surprising.

"You sure got over your wife dying pretty quick," he quipped.

"Hey," the shifter defended indignantly. "I'll miss my wife. See, being married to a shapeshifter, you get a different playboy bunny every night. I'm sure you can imagine how awesome that was." He sighed, a slightly wistful look on Josh's face. "But, oh well, I should do all right with this pretty boy's mug. Though you know what?" he added, raising an eyebrow at Dean. "I may even borrow your looks from time to time. You're not a bad looking guy – for a hunter. You look in good shape. Did anyone ever tell you you had really nice eyelashes?"

Dean was suddenly very uncomfortable standing there while a dude who looked just like Josh listed out his pleasing physical attributes. _Awkward much_. He took a subtle step forward, closing the gap between them.

The shifter kept right on talking. "Yup, I could definitely score as you. Maybe I'll even look up little Lexie for a spell. I'm pretty sure I'd get a taste if I came as Dean Winchester." It laughed again, obviously thoroughly enjoying the taunting. "Man, does Josh here ever want to know what went down between you two! He just can't figure out if you really cared about her or not."

"Did you kill him?" Dean asked fearfully, ignoring the taunting. He had heard far worse threats and mockery from demons. Besides, Josh didn't know where Lex was so neither did the shapeshifter.

"I can't do that until I get all his memories, you imbecile," he chided, tapping his temple. "You've killed a few of my kind in your day; you should know the schmuck has to stay alive for us to get what we need. Like banking pin numbers."

Dean hadn't known that but it suddenly made sense why the shapeshifter that had pretended to be him back in St. Louis had tied him up in the sewer instead of killing him outright.

He decided he'd had his fill of the conversation and made his move. With speed he didn't even realize was possible considering his fuzzy vision and pounding headache, he whipped the knife out and lunged forward.

He almost made it. The knife reached the shifter's ribcage, putting a small tear in the man's t-shirt before the fingers of steel that had wrapped themselves around Dean's wrist managed to deflect the blade's path of travel.

_Oh crap_, Dean thought as he felt his arm being yanked to the side, throwing him off balance. A solid fist landed in his gut, winding him and giving the far stronger shapeshifter free rein to batter the Winchester as he saw fit.

Apparently he decided to plant a couple more punches in Dean's stomach before opting to go instead for the infamously durable Winchester noggin. He pried the knife free from Dean's hand and tucked it quickly through his leather belt before gripping the hunter hard by the back of the neck and slamming his head into the thick, steel wall of the freezer. Dean felt the skin split open over his left eye and watched his blood spatter on the wall in front of him as his head was yanked backwards again. He could taste the blood from his nose as it ran across his lips and down his chin.

Holding the dazed hunter up against the wall by the neck like a limp rag doll, the shifter spun him around to face him.

"This is one time your stubbornness is gonna get you killed," he hissed at Dean, leaning in close to the hunter's face. "Now play nice or I forget about trying to trade you alive. The demons would be just as happy if I gave them to you dead."

"Go to Hell," Dean croaked feebly, his voice holding no trace of the obstinacy his words implied as he blinked through the blood streaming down across his eye.

A look of rage overcame Josh's handsome features and Dean was unable to retain enough lucidity over the next few seconds to truly regret his smart mouth. The shifter spat his next sentence out slowly and vehemently, slamming the back of the hunter's head into the freezer wall with every syllable.

"I. Said. Play. Nice!" The last hit was especially hard and Dean could feel more warm blood mixing with the cold streaks already frozen on his neck. He became aware of the hold on his throat loosening but when his feet touched the ground, his legs couldn't hold his weight and he slid down the wall, slumping to a spineless heap on the cold floor. A strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back up, half shoving and half dragging him across the freezer towards one of the shelves.

"Now, I'm just gonna tie you to this rack of meat here," Josh's voice was saying in a very patronizing tone, "while I clear the doorway and get out of here. I'm gonna go make my deal and if you can manage to not freeze to death, someone'll come for you soon. Think you can stay alive?"

Dean was on the floor and could feel his arm being pressed against a cold, metal post while the shapeshifter searched for something handy to bind him with. He didn't answer the question, assuming it had been rhetorical.

"I said, can you stay alive?" he was asked again, this time with much more annoyance. "I'd like to know whether I'm bargaining for a dead Winchester or an alive one."

Dean narrowed his eyes and glared at his captor. It actually looked like there were two of them but he was fairly certain that was just the blurred vision stemming from too many knocks on the head. "Yes," he spat, reaching subtly for one of the two Ruby's knives he could see tucked in the men's belts and hoping it was the real one. "But I can't say the same for you," he added as he snatched the hilt and turned it very quickly towards the shifter, pushing it with his last remnants of strength up into his captor's stomach just above the hemline of his jeans.

The man screamed, dropping Dean's arm and clutching at the hilt of the knife. He fell to his knees, grunting and gargling for a few seconds before toppling sideways over Dean's outstretched legs. Dean looked at the still figure and let out a weak, strangled cry of triumph. The creature's eyes were all bugged-out and vacant and the hunter couldn't help but think how ridiculously blue they were, very much like Cas's. Where was Cas, anyway?

That was pretty much the last thing he remembered thinking as blackness enveloped him.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam decided they should check out Misha Skerritt's house first, just in case the shapeshifter had left any clues in the home of his last copy-victim. It was a duplex on the north side of the city in a lower-income neighborhood and he picked the lock on the back door with ease, earning himself an impressed nod from Josh.

They found the body of the original Mr. Misha Skerritt stuffed in the deep freeze, bent almost double to fit alongside the many boxes of bulk commercial frozen foods. The only other thing of interest to be found was evidence in the kitchen that someone had been here within the past few hours. That meant the shapeshifter had come back here after becoming Skerritt, since it had been almost a full day since Josh had shaken hands with him on Ella's sister's porch.

"Okay, does this tell us anything useful?" Josh pondered out loud as they pulled away in the Impala.

"No," Sam griped testily. Driving around in the Impala without Dean was making him feel on edge. It was way too much like those four months Dean had been gone. Granted it was Josh riding shotgun and not Ruby, but it just seemed wrong anyway.

"Okay," Josh continued, trying to be the rational voice of reason. He remembered the last time he and Sam had been left trying to find their siblings in Indiana and couldn't help but be grateful Lexie wasn't involved this time. She was still missing, sure, but only from him and presumably she wasn't in the hands of a shapeshifter. "What other leads do we have?"

Sam took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper under control. "We got the guy's work uniform," he stated.

"All right, that could prove handy. Let's check it out. It can't hurt to try it, at least until we find a better lead."

"What angle do you want to take?" Sam asked, gesturing under Josh's seat for his passenger to pull out the box of fake ID's. "FBI? State Police? Federal Marshals?"

"You still got Homeland Security?" Josh asked eagerly, reaching under his seat. He had been impressed with those badges when Dean had shown them to him in Indiana and couldn't help harbouring a strong desire to use them.

"Yeah, that'll work," Sam admitted. He looked over at Josh. "You're gonna need a suit, man. You're pretty much same size as Dean, so…"

"Yeah, okay," Josh accepted the offer quickly, feeling the tension spreading through Sam at the thought of someone else wearing his brother's clothes and flashing his brother's fake ID's.

They parked in a quiet street around the corner from the offices of Minion Security, which were apparently open on a Sunday thanks to the Capital Hill People's Fair, an arts festival that was going down this weekend. They changed quickly into the suits standing by the trunk of the car, hoping nobody came along mid-change. As they strolled down the sidewalk towards the building, Sam noticed Josh tugging continually at his tie.

"Hmph," he snorted. "I figured growing up in your circles you'd be used to wearing a suit."

"This thing keeps tightening. I swear it's trying to strangle me."

Sam stopped short for a second, giving Josh a surprised look. "Seriously?" he chuckled softly, remembering Dean's same words three days prior and feeling guilty about how annoyed he had been at his big brother's griping. "I thought Dean was just being difficult."

He continued walking, deciding that if – no, _when_ – they found Dean, he was going to go a little easier on his brother. "Better watch it," he said over his shoulder. "Dean thinks that tie's been hexed by Lillith. It probably _is_ trying to kill you."

"Huh?" Josh glanced down at the tie with an uncertain look, tugging again at the neck. "You're kidding right?" he asked, too quietly for Sam to hear. In this line of work, it wasn't entirely implausible that the kid was telling the truth.

The receptionist was a sour-faced but otherwise pretty woman in her thirties who barely gave Sam and Josh or their fake badges a second glance as she called through to the manager to announce their presence. They were directed to a small, unkempt office in the back and greeted by an equally unkempt grey-haired, portly man.

The badges had the desired effect of alarming him into complete compliance. The manager answered all their questions about his employee without hesitation and even produced files from the messy stacks on top of the filing cabinet to confirm everything he was telling them.

Apparently Misha Skerritt had worked there for four years and was an excellent employee. He had the highest level security clearance the company offered but for the last year had been placed full time as the lone night guard at a closed down mattress factory as per his request. He wasn't the most social fellow, the manager acknowledged, and preferred solitary work. He had shown up for work every day this week and, as far as his boss was aware, had stayed on site for the duration of all his shifts. The hunters thanked him and left.

"Empty factory," Sam shrugged once they were outside. "Sounds plausible."

"You thinking the mattress company could be Demon Command Centre for this op?" Josh asked, still tugging at Dean's tie.

Sam allowed himself a chuckle at the other man's jargon. "Jesus, Josh. You really should have been a Fed."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Dean blinked, fighting with all the strength he could muster for lucidity. The ridiculously long lashes on his left eye that the shifter had admired were being held shut by something and he reached a hand up to find out what. He discovered it was crusted blood and realized he must have blacked out, though he had no idea for how long. Suddenly feeling cold, he remembered where he was and the details of his situation came flooding back to him.

He groaned and finally managed to open both eyes, blinking until he gained sufficient clarity. He was lying on the floor with his shoulders slumped against one of the steel shelves and there was something pinning his feet. Looking down he saw it was the shapeshifter and kicked the dead body off with a disgusted groan before attempting to stand up.

Standing proved to be no easy feat. His vision was still blurred and his head was throbbing. His legs wouldn't support his weight and he ended up pulling himself up the steel leg of the shelf rack behind him. Once upright, he swayed precariously for a long moment before attempting to stagger to the door.

He made it to the bottom of the shelf unit blocking the door, falling forward to grab it with his hands for additional support. Hand over hand, he leaned and shuffled his way around it to the top. As he traveled, he wrinkled his nose and moved his mouth open and closed in an effort to generate enough facial movement to crack the frozen streams of blood that he could feel caking the entire left side of his face.

He couldn't reach the door handle because of the shelf unit so he knocked a few boxes out of the way and positioned himself with his back to the unit, his shoulders pushed up under the leg post, and heaved upwards. For a split second he thought it was working before he realized instead of the shelf moving up, his body was just moving down. He landed on his tailbone on the cold, steel floor and suddenly became painfully aware of the bitterness of the icy air. His head was spinning again and his vision started to go black around the edges. He could still see his breath frosting up as it left his lungs, though the puffs were getting smaller as his breathing grew shallower.

He struggled to get up and try again but didn't seem to be getting anywhere. It dawned on him that his mind was doling out instructions but his body just wasn't listening and he hadn't actually moved. "Oh crap," he said in barely more than a whisper to the empty air, falling back against a box of frozen chicken cordon-bleus.

"I need your help, Sammy."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Castiel jerked in pain when a puff of searing heat rose from the nearby pit. He could still smell the charred remnants of the feathers of his left wing and every movement he made brought him waves of agony so intense he was having a hard time focusing. He knew he wouldn't last much longer here if he didn't find a way out. No longer able to fly, he had resorted to the slow, arduous method of running instead. He picked up his pace, heading in a completely arbitrary direction as he had no clue where to find a doorway out.

Last time he had been here, he had not been alone. A few hundred angels had been sent to retrieve Dean Winchester before he could be broken, before he opened the first seal. Of course, word of Lillith's plan had come to them too late, Dean Winchester had already spilled blood, freeing himself from one torturous rack just to find himself on another much worse one. Until they realized this, however, there had still been hope and the angels had fought with vigour. It had been millennia since such a battle had been waged and Castiel had been excited to be amoung the first wave of angels to lay siege to Hell.

He had fought hard and had seen many brothers fall at the hands of the demon hordes. He had been honoured, so incredibly honoured, when his Father had chosen him of all the worthy angels in the battle to be the one to find what they had all sought, to reach Dean Winchester first. He had been rewarded by receiving the assignment of watching over and guiding Dean after his resurrection until the man's task, whatever that was, could be fulfilled.

But last time there had been a hundred angels left to guard the doorways they had created, keeping the way open for their fellow soldiers to get out once the man was found. Last time the angels had each other's backs.

This time he was alone. Thankfully, it seemed no demons had known he was coming and some of the ones he came across as he searched for an exit were startled to see him and had actually run away. He imagined stumbling across an angel in its true form would be somewhat shocking to a demon going about his everyday business here in Hell. Unfortunately, here in their home turf, they were able to look upon him in his true form and not be overwhelmed by it. The ones attacking him seemed to be getting bolder. Word of his presence here was spreading and they were coming at him in groups that seemed to be growing in numbers.

Because he was an angel and had physical form and was not merely a massless human soul, the demons were unable to manipulate his surroundings. They could not simply will him into chains upon a rack, as they had done for decades with his charge. If they wanted him a restrained prisoner, or a dead one, they would have to do it the old fashioned way.

_And sure enough_, he realized wearily, looking up to see a group of advancing demons, _they were going to try and do just that_.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

When Dean next came to, he was shivering violently. The cold was biting through his meager layers and his hands were in near agony. He rubbed them together briskly, interlocking his fingers and blowing his warm breath between his thumbs but it did little other than leave him light-headed. The hole Ella had made in his left hand had barely begun to heal and the thin bandage certainly wasn't doing anything to keep the cold from penetrating right through the scab, both adding to his pain and further reducing his flexibility. The hunter knew the fact he was still feeling the pain was actually a good thing. It was when he went numb that he should really start to worry. He also knew he should get up, stay on his feet, keep moving. Sitting on the floor leaning against a box like a chump was basically begging hypothermia to take over.

He twisted around to see behind him, taking in the position of the shelf unit blocking the door. Determined and stubborn, he decided since he couldn't lift it, he would try pushing the bottom out, knocking it flat to the floor. He reached forward to grab hold of the steel leg to hoist himself up but couldn't find the strength to lift his weight forward. He ended up turning onto his hands and knees and practically rolled himself upright using the boxes behind him as props.

Now standing, he blinked a few times to clear his vision and weakly pushed a few tubs and other debris out of the way. He leaned over the unit, grabbing a steel leg with both hands, and heaved. It budged.

Encouraged, he tried again and again, ignoring the biting pain in his face, ears and hands with practiced ease. Finally he passed the mark where more of the shelf's weight was vertical than horizontal and it slid down the rest of the way with a loud bang. It took his mind a few seconds to register that his plan was working but he was still holding it together enough to know the blotches of light in indecipherable shapes he was seeing were just manifestations of his head injuries and he quite nonchalantly ignored them.

Now he just had to move it back, away from the door. Realizing he didn't have the strength left to pull it, he opted to push with his legs. He squeezed his boots in between the door and the top shelf and pushed with his knees, pressing his back and hands against the steel door.

This time it didn't budge. He wasn't sure if he was this weak from cold, from the bangs on the head, or from blood loss. He could still feel streams of blood covering his face and neck and his hair was crusty with frozen clumps of it. His once-green shirt was a mottled array of fresh-blood's bright red to the brownish colour it turned as it dried. He didn't know how much of that was his and how much was the shapeshifter's.

In the middle of a particularly draining heave, his knees buckled and he sank to the floor once more, this time with his back against the wall just to the side of the door. He realized when he hit the floor that he hardly had any feeling in his ass anymore. In fact, the pain from his hands was almost gone, too. An almost warm sensation was spreading slowly through his insides.

_Oh that's good_, he thought mistakenly. _It's warming up in here._

_**SPN-SPN-SPN**_

**_TBC..._**

_Next chap... Dean spends some time in his own head, a desperate Sam enlists some help in the search for his brother, and Cas receives a helping hand..._


	20. Where is Jimmy Novak?

**Chapter 20 – Where is Jimmy Novak?**

"You mind stopping at a coffee shop or something before we go charge this demon lair?" Josh asked the scowling, determined-looking man in the Impala's driver's seat.

Sam threw him an impatient look. "Dean could be dying."

Josh sighed. "For starters, don't think that way. If the shapeshifter had wanted him dead, he'd have killed him at the gas station and not driven away with him pretending to be me. And I'm not staying let's stop for a leisurely lunch, I'm just saying I've got a killer headache and I'm still getting a little fuzzy from time to time from whatever kind of blast Netty dealt out. I could just use a donut or something before trying to take on a nest of demons is all."

Sam turned to study his passenger as a realization hit him. He had been so gung-ho to find Dean he hadn't really thought it through. He had to admit, Josh _really_ didn't look good. If Dean was at the factory and there were demons or even a shapeshifter guarding him, he'd need some healthy backup.

"Fine," he relented, pulling out his phone. "We'll stop for a quick bite and change out of these suits. I'm gonna get Ruby to come with us; we may need her if things get ugly."

Sam ignored Josh's skeptical look at the suggestion of inviting a demon along. Right now, he needed her help. He was desperate.

For the fourth time in fifteen minutes, he heard a low growl escape the husky in the back seat and he breathed an exasperated sigh. Josh apparently sensed his annoyance for he turned around in his seat and petted the dog, speaking to her in a soothing voice.

"She doesn't mean anything by it," the blond man defended. "She's just confused because she doesn't know why Colby's not around."

"Whatever," Sam sulked, tapping the steering wheel in his impatience at a red light. He didn't notice his knee was also twitching.

"Speaking of Colby," Josh continued, ignoring Sam's understandably foul mood. "Do you know how to get a hold of that Rufus guy?"

"No, but Bobby would know how. Why?" Sam asked.

Josh sighed. "Somebody needs to know the kid's dead and I don't even know who his friends are. I know his parents are both gone and he's got no brothers or sisters, but that's it. I don't know who else to call. This Rufus guy should know. Colby spoke pretty highly of him."

"Yeah, sure," Sam agreed. "I'll get the number for you."

"Someone's gotta go get the Mustang before the police find it parked so close to the school and find all his hunting gear in the trunk," Josh continued. "And someone has to take the dog. I can't keep her."

Sam felt a little guilty he hadn't spared much thought to Colby since they had left the school. He'd had his own family problems to worry about. If Colby had nobody, then that was probably a good thing. That meant there was nobody left behind to suffer through the pain of losing him. Since Dean's return from Hell, Sam had come to believe that having nobody was probably better than having just one thing you lived in constant fear of losing. He was terrified of losing Dean again. The all too-frequent moments like right now were driving him insane. The not knowing, the worrying, the fear and dread. He shivered, refusing to let it get the better of him. He was going to find his brother. "I'm gonna find him," he said, not realizing he was now speaking out loud.

"Of course you are," Josh agreed, unaware Sam hadn't meant to share that thought. "Though, he may not give you that chance. Knowing your brother, he'll probably break himself free if they've got him tied up somewhere without his whiskey flask."

Sam raised a disapproving eyebrow at his passenger.

Josh shrugged. He had been trying to ease the kid's fears with a bit of levity but realized that wasn't going to work. "Hey, I'm not judging; he still gets his job done. Besides, after being in Hell, who am I to say he shouldn't be drinking to deal with it."

Sam agreed that Dean drank too much but, unlike Sam, Dean was quite a functional drunk. He didn't fall into the abyss of complete uselessness that Sam had during those first weeks after Dean had been dragged to Hell. Sam had literally tried to drink himself to death and probably would have succeeded had Ruby not shown up and straightened him out.

He pulled into a café parking lot and dialed Ruby's number, feeling slightly guilty talking about Dean's drinking problem while he was still feeling the effects of his last hit of demon juice.

_It's not the same thing_, he berated himself, almost convincingly.

SPN-SPN-SPN

Dean rolled his head sideways, looking at the mass of steel blocking his exit and realized belatedly he had passed out again.

_What a pussy,_ he scolded himself, trying unsuccessfully to connect his brain's orders to his limbs and get them to move.

_You're not gonna die a freakin' popsicle all alone in some crappy French cuisine joint that serves three peas and a piece of asparagus on a plate and calls it a meal. _

He wondered how long he had been out as he glanced over at the dead body on the floor a few feet away. "Bhodi, you're gonna owe me a beer when I get out of this one," he told it, not sure if he was actually speaking out loud or not. He knew it wasn't Josh but it sure as Hell looked like him and he didn't want to be talking to an asshole shapeshifter that had tried to kill him. "Come to think of it," he snickered, "make that a whiskey. The good stuff. Apparently you can afford it."

"Where the Hell is Sam?" he asked after a few minutes, still unable to move.

"He'll be here soon; you know that," came the reply.

He jerked his head around to see Lex near the back corner of the freezer, walking towards him. "Oh shit. Lex? How'd they get you? What are you doing here?"

She smiled as she knelt down in front of him. "You tell me."

He noticed she no longer looked awkward or angry like she had last week in Nebraska. And thank God she didn't look like she had when he'd first broken her out of Oceanview – skinny, pale and quiet. No, she looked like she had in Texas months ago, all colour and sparkly-eyed smiles. He was about to smile back when he remembered it was not a good thing that she was here. She was just wearing a thin t-shirt and jeans, though he sluggishly realized she didn't look remotely cold. He glanced sideways and saw that the door was still closed.

"You tell me?" he repeated, wishing his brain would work a little faster and figure this out.

"You tell me what I'm doing here," she said patiently waiting for him to catch on. "Personally, I think you're just lonely."

"Oh crap," he said simply, this time allowing himself to grin back at her. "I'm going crazy aren't I?" For some reason, his mind wasn't registering this as a terribly shocking thing. It seemed incredibly normal to be having a conversation with a figment of his imagination.

"Maybe just a little."

"So, if I'm imagining you," he chuckled, "maybe I should imagine you giving me a lapdance."

Lex laughed. "Now, considering I'm not really here, picture what that would look like if Sam came through the door right now to rescue you."

Dean pouted. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he conceded. "Besides, I've got enough frozen appendages." He noticed her look past him and alarm struck her pretty features when her eyes fell on the dead body on the floor a few away.

"Uh, that's not Josh, I swear," he said quickly. "It's a shapeshifter."

She seemed to take the news remarkably well. "Hmph," she huffed, settling herself so she was sitting cross-legged in front of Dean. "You seem to have a fetish for stabbing fake Brentons, don't you?"

Dean remembered the hunt when he had stabbed a pagan God that had taken Alex's form and tried to laugh but felt his eyes getting heavy again and sleep tugging at him. His vision blurred and all he could make out was the golden colour of her hair as she leaned in towards him.

"Hey, Dean!" he heard her call as she tapped his cheek. _Damn, that slap felt real. _"Dean, you have to stay awake. Come on, please. Dean!"

The hunter forced his eyes open again, trying desperately to keep from slipping into the darkness that was waiting for him. "Okay, okay," he whispered, reaching up to stop her hitting his face again. "I'm awake."

"Let's keep it that way," she coaxed.

He rolled his head towards her, catching her concerned gaze. _Damn she was beautiful._ Her hand dropped from his face but he felt her warm fingers curl around his cold ones as they rested on his thigh.

"Listen," he slurred, "I'm really sorry about throwing you in Oceanview."

"Why don't you tell the real me that?"

"'Cause the real you hates me. Doesn't she?"

"What do you think?" she asked, throwing the question back to him.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you now, would I?" Dean managed a small huff of laughter at his own cheekiness.

Lex looked him in the eyes as she answered. "You know," she said quietly.

Dean smiled. "We're gonna kill Red-Eyes," he stated confidently. "Bobby's workin' on it. If anyone can find a way, he can. I promise you, I'll finish him."

"Oh yeah? Then what?"

"What do you mean then what? Then you're stalker-free."

"And would I be Dean-free too? Case closed, hunt solved, monster ganked. Time to move on?"

Dean sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back. "If you're lucky, yes."

"What if I don't want to be lucky?"

"Well maybe I want you to be."

"Do you?"

Dean opened one eye and squinted at her. "Imaginary you talks a Hell of a lot like your brother, you know that?"

She smiled and shrugged. "You've been spending too much time with him. He's contagious. Better watch or you'll be hugging Sam and telling him how much you love him."

Dean just snorted. "'Bout as much chance of that as me getting married and living in the suburbs with two point five kids and a dog."

"The apple pie life?" Her smile faded. "You really don't think you deserve that, do you?"

"I don't," he answered quickly, his mind flashing to a blur of souls screaming on his rack. "Besides, I'm just not cut out for it. My Dad made sure of that a long time ago." He squeezed her hand. "Trust me, nobody would want to have my fucked up life. Or to be a part of it for very long."

"I'm not real, Dean. You don't have to give me excuses."

"They're not excuses," he argued feebly, closing his eyes again. "They're reasons."

"Dean? Stay awake, Dean. Dean. Dean..." Her voice faded away as darkness swallowed him again.

SPN-SPN-SPN

Castiel was outnumbered. He blasted demons away with the traces of Heaven's force that he could still tap into from this God-forsaken place. He blasted them away as fast as he could but there were just too many and they just kept coming. He was struck in the back with what felt like the blade of a battle-axe. He knocked the offending demon away with his tattered but whole wing while blocking another swinging demon with his arm. Both demons were sent screaming through the air, landing in twisted heaps of bones, teeth, and horns.

He was getting weaker and the demons were getting bolder. His Heavenly blasts began simply sending the recipient demon rolling twenty feet away, where they inevitably got back on their feet and charged again. He could feel their excitement rising in anticipation of his defeat and was horrified at the thought of his imminent failure. He had been charged to protect Dean and was not going to be able to fulfill that duty. He was going to be ripped to shreds and in the ultimate act of disgrace, his parts would be paraded around Hell by gloating demons. He allowed himself a fleeting moment of gratitude that he had managed to yank himself free from Jimmy Novak's body before Netiran had flung him into Hell. He had no idea where his vessel had landed or what state it was in, but no fate could have been worse for Jimmy than landing in here with him.

He struck out wildly with his arms and his wings but could not block the multitude of furious blows that were being aimed at him. He cringed in silent agony as he felt one of his wings being hacked at the stem repeatedly by some demon behind him with a grim determination to separate it from his body. He felt his own light dimming to a pale glow and fell to the hard, smoldering ground, finally screaming out loud as the demons threw themselves upon him, hacking and chopping in a euphoric frenzy.

He was sure he was finished; convinced those were to be the last few horrible moments of a lifetime that had spanned tens of thousands of years. But then, through the writhing mass of demons on top of him, he saw a glimpse of light. Heaven's light peeking through in tiny, white slithers of hope and mercy. He felt the demon bulks being thrown off him and could hear the screams of their unpleasant demises.

_Angels_, he thought, trying to muster his last remnants of strength to push his way free of the vile creatures. His brothers had found him and had been sent in to rescue him. He would be given a chance to complete his task, after all.

He felt a familiar presence and opened his eyes to see Miniel reaching out to him. He struggled to make it to his feet but couldn't. His left wing was hanging loose and lay on the ground in a tattered, mangled mess of dark, shimmering plumage. Angels in their true form do not bleed, but Cas's glow was flickering and fading, barely visible light peering out through the holes in his form the demon weapons had made. He managed to turn his head and look around, realizing in surprise that Miniel was the only other angel here.

There had been no cavalry rescue; they had just sent one angel. One disgraced angel who commanded no respect amoung the garrisons.

He felt himself being gripped by strong, firm hands and pulled to his feet. The next thing he knew he was in the air, high above the angry demons who were screaming in rage at having their plaything taken away. He could hear the strong flap of wings as they soared upwards, his own destroyed wing being cradled gently by his savior. "I have you, brother," he heard his old companion say, the words laden with genuine concern. "I have you."

SPN-SPN-SPN

"You sure we can trust her?" Josh asked for the third time as he and Sam sat in the Impala just outside the closed down mattress factory, waiting for Ruby.

Sam didn't bother to hide his frustration this time. "Yes," he snapped.

"It's just that Dean says…"

"Well _**I**_ say she'll help. Dean's not always right, you know."

"She's still a demon. I don't like it."

"Listen, she saved _your_ ass too a couple of days ago, remember?" Sam pointed out.

"I suppose," Josh mumbled, still unsure. He wanted to trust Sam's judgment but the kid seemed different than he had last year in Indiana. He was jumpier, angrier, and a lot less sympathetic. Even now, with Dean missing again, Sam was more pissed than the scared puppy he had been last time. Same near-panic in his voice, just a far different method of expressing it.

"She saved your sister's life too, you know," Sam added.

"What? You introduced a demon to my sis?"

"Dean and I went off to find a dagger stashed at some cult and we didn't let Alex come because we figured it was too dangerous. Ruby stayed to look out for her. She made Ruby go clubbing with her and when some weird monster-things called Chinabas came after her, Ruby actually got hurt protecting her. She could have just split. They weren't after her, they were after your sister and her mojo." Sam was being truthful, hoping by bringing Alex into the picture and painting Ruby as her savior he could put an end to Josh's annoying blind distrust of anything demon.

The blond man looked thoughtful for a moment before giving Sam a conceding shrug. "I'll take your word for it."

Sam refrained from pointing out that Josh had yet to hesitate when taking Dean's word on anything, deciding it wasn't a point worth making. He let out a pleased sigh when he noticed Ruby's car pulling up behind them. At least he wouldn't have to keep explaining himself to freaking Freud anymore. The guy was genuinely concerned for Dean and Sam trusted him to do all he could to help the missing hunter, but surfer-dude tended to make Sam a little edgy when the younger hunter was trying to hide something. Josh had an uncanny knack for seeing through people and Sam didn't want him asking any more questions about his relationship with Ruby. He already seemed to be giving him glances that lingered a little too long and seemed a fraction too studious for Sam's liking.

"She's here," he announced quickly, getting out of the car. "Let's go."

Sam opened the trunk and handed Josh a shotgun loaded with salt-rounds as well as the blond man's own Berretta. Josh had returned Dean's .45 earlier and in a moment of sentimentality, Sam tucked it in his own waistband next to his PT99. He grabbed his Ithica as well and turned to Ruby. "Dean has your knife with him," he said in way of greeting as she stepped up next to them on the sidewalk.

Ruby shrugged. "We'll manage," she said with a slight smirk. "We've got other ways of getting rid of demons."

Sam scowled in reply, slamming the Impala's trunk closed and marching towards the factory with a simple jerk of the head to Josh. He didn't know what Josh knew about his abilities, but preferred that they not be discussed in his presence if at all possible. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use them.

Josh and Ruby fell in behind him. "So you're Goldilocks' big brother, huh?" Sam heard Ruby say. Sometimes she managed to sound almost human.

"Uh, yeah, guess so," Josh answered, sounding oddly uncomfortable. Usually he was all charm around an attractive female, much like Dean.

"You don't have a psychic thing goin' on."

"Uh, no. Regular Joe here."

"You look a little more alert than last time we met," Ruby continued in a conversational tone. "Sam forgets his manners sometimes. Hi, I'm Ruby."

"Josh."

Sam pulled the chain-link fencing away from the post, making a hole big enough for his tall frame to squeeze through. He held it open for the two after him. "Can we concentrate on finding Dean, please?"

Ruby gave him a hurt look and for a split second, Sam felt guilty about the way he often treated her. Most of the time, he couldn't forget that she was a demon and didn't concern himself with being mindful of her feelings but there were rare moments when he felt a genuine affection from her. Maybe not _for_ her, that was hard to say, but definitely _from_ her. There were times when they seemed to share fleeting instances of real intimacy. Usually these occurred during or after sex, but not always. It was these moments that made him sometimes regret his usual cold, gruff, business-like attitude towards her.

They entered the building by breaking a padlocked door on the side entrance. A quick sweep of the main production floor revealed nothing but as they neared the offices at the back of the building, they heard voices.

They followed the voices to the lunchroom, where three people were sitting at a table chatting casually about some speech Obama had made on American-Muslim relations. Sam turned to Ruby. "Demons?" he mouthed in question, backing up against the wall outside the lunchroom.

"We should just possess him and declare war on everyone," the man wearing the security guard uniform laughed from inside the room. "Nuke-ing them all would be faster than waiting for Lucifer to get his ass topside."

Ruby gave Sam a 'duuh' look. She didn't need to see their demon-faces to verify they were indeed possessed meat-suits.

Sam ignored the mocking look, turning instead to Josh. "You wait out here," he ordered. "You're back-up."

Josh frowned and looked like he was going to argue but Ruby cut him off. "You're the only one standing here basically unarmed," she whispered matter-of-factly. "That shotgun isn't gonna do you much good."

Realizing she had included Sam in the 'armed' category, Josh shot the younger hunter a quick look. Sam looked confident and determined and not in the least worried about facing three demons. Whatever the kid could do, it was probably more than what Josh could, so he relented and backed down with a nod. It bothered him a little that since meeting the Winchesters, he was generally considered the weakest link. He had been in many hairy situations and had always managed to handle himself and look after his sister in the process, but these guys were a whole new level of hardcore. He had never felt inferior to other hunters before, and he'd worked with quite a few. Of course, these two were pretty much the cream of the crop. That's why they had angels tagging along with them – and demons. As far as he could tell, Ruby seemed genuine enough.

Satisfied, Sam nodded curtly to Ruby and the two of them stepped through the doorway.

"Hi," was all he said. All three demons jumped to their feet, clearly startled.

They all took a second to assess the threat and all clearly misjudged the level of danger they were in for three sets of shoulders relaxed within seconds. The security guard smirked.

"Seriously? You think a shotgun's gonna stop us. You kids are in way over your heads."

"Meet Sam Winchester," Ruby said casually.

That got their attention. All three pairs of eyes widened in horror as they realized the identity of their attacker.

Sam was a bit annoyed at Ruby for blurting out who he was, pretty much eliminating any possible way they could get any information from these three without using his powers in front of Josh. Nevertheless, he smiled as he lowered the shotgun and raised his hand.

"Who wants to go first?" he challenged. "Now tell me where my brother is."

The demons backed away, cowardly trying to get behind one another as they did so. "We don't know; we sure don't have him!" the largest man croaked, dragging the security guard in front of him.

"Yeah," the older one added, encouraged. "Far as we heard, you two escaped the school when an angel showed up. That's the last we heard!"

"We're just waiting here for our next orders," the guard said, eyeing Sam's outstretched hand warily but deciding to stand his ground.

"Wrong answer!" Sam spat as he decided on the guard first, reaching in with his mind and yanking the demon out, curling his upper lip in distaste as the man's voice screamed through the swirling mass of black smoke pouring out of his mouth.

He watched as the smoke disappeared into the floor, very glad he had boosted his demon-blood dosage with a swig from his newly-filled flask in the washroom of the café where Josh had insisted on stopping. He casually swung his cold glare to the two remaining demons, who were now quite literally shaking in fear.

"We don't know where your brother is!" the larger one screamed at him. "We swear! If he's missing, it's not the demons that have him!"

"Yeah, trust me," the older one added, again following his comrade's lead. "We would have heard if Dean Winchester had been caught or killed. Every one of us would know by now!"

Sam gave Ruby a questioning glance. _They seemed like they were telling the truth_. She just gave him an apologetic shrug, not offering any advice.

Sam threw his anger into killing the second demon, not just exorcising him, making sure it was painful enough to have him screaming for a full minute before he finally succumbed and his meat-suit dropped to the ground. He then turned his outstretched hand to the third. "Last chance," he said coldly.

"I don't know anything," the demon whimpered.

Sam twisted his prisoner's inner demon around inside the body for a minute, pausing every so often to allow the demon a chance to change his answer. He was getting tired of the screaming but even more so, was getting desperate for some information. Finally, when it was clear the demon had no information to offer, he finished him off, dropping him to the floor with a sickening gargle still escaping his throat.

"Fuck me," he heard Josh comment quietly from behind him. Sam closed his eyes for a second in disappointment – with Josh or himself he wasn't sure – before turning around.

Josh was standing in the doorway still holding the shotgun, a stunned look on his face. Eventually, he looked up, catching Sam's eye. Sam noticed a barely perceptible fleeting glimpse of unease before the blond man smiled. "Well, that's a handy mojo," he said in a not-quite-convincing jovial tone.

Ruby smiled. "Now that's more like it," she quipped. "He has a better attitude than your brother, Sam. You should keep him."

SPN-SPN-SPN

Dean heard his father's voice before he managed to focus his hazel eyes enough to see him. John Winchester was leaning against an upright shelf unit about ten feet away, his arms crossed in a disapproving stance.

"You just gonna sit there and give up, son? Or are you gonna get off your ass and make some effort to get out of this freezer?"

"Dad," Dean breathed in surprise. "Okay, I _know_ you can't be real." He turned his head away and closed his eyes, deciding if his father's opening line was anything to go by, then he really didn't want to have this conversation.

"You've got a severe concussion, blood loss, and symptoms of hypothermia. You know you need to stay awake, soldier. I didn't train you to roll over and die. Toughen up."

Dean let out a groan. "Now you sound like Siren-Sam."

"Well," his father nodded accusingly, moving away from the shelves in an almost belligerent manner. "I thought I raised you to be strong." There was a pause. "I mean, thirty years, Dean? Was that really the best you could do?"

"I'm sorry," the younger Winchester croaked, looking away in overwhelming shame.

"I died for you, Dean. I went to Hell for you. I trusted you to look after Sammy. This is how you repay me?"

"Dad, please don't be mad." Dean pleaded, his voice not much more than a whimper. He contemplated letting the incredible tiredness take him over, almost begged it to.

"Mad? I'm not mad," John fired back. "I'm disappointed."

"I tried. I really tried…I just couldn't…" Dean swallowed, hating the sound of his own voice making excuses. He closed his eyes briefly as a recent conversation he'd had with Cas was brought to mind. Lying in a hospital room after Alistair had been let loose from the Devil's Trap. _'It's not blame that falls on you, Dean. It's fate.'_

Dean had spent the better part of two years feeling an almost debilitating amount of guilt over the sacrifice his father had made for him. He had felt unworthy of the trade and had believed whole-heartedly that his father had been the one who should have lived, that he was the better soldier, the better hunter, the better man. However, since his trip to Hell, Dean had begun to doubt his father's absolute greatness. His own unmistakable disappointment at seeing Sam become more and more like the eldest Winchester was a clear sign he no longer held the man in such high regard. He thought again of Cas, the angel's apparent faith in him and the chance for redemption he offered.

"No." Dean surprised himself with how much resolve he was able to muster into that one word.

"No?" his Dad raised an eyebrow.

"You heard me." Dean pushed himself up as straight as he could from where he still sat slumped against the wall. "No. This is your fault, Dad. I didn't ask for any of this – you raised us into it. Do you really think Lillith would have dragged me to Hell if you hadn't obsessively hunted the Yellow-eyed Demon for decades? I shouldn't have been there to start with. I'm your son, damnit! Just like Sam, just like Adam. Only you didn't give enough of a crap about me to protect _me_. You told me to protect Sam and you sure as Hell protected Adam, but me, you didn't keep me away from any of this! In fact, you forced me into it. And you know what? _I'm_ disappointed in _you_ for that."

John stood still for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face before uncrossing his arms and sighing. He slumped his shoulders in a defeated manner before squatting down a few feet away from his son, resting one knee on the ground and leaning his elbow on the other.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "You're right."

"I am?" Dean was taken aback, both at his own outburst and at his father's admission.

John nodded. "I was hard on you, on both of you. I was so focused on what I'd lost in that fire when Mary died, I forgot to appreciate what I still had."

Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry but he did neither and remained silent.

"I told you before I was proud of you; I still am. I just wish I'd given you more of a reason to fight, I suppose."

Dean knew his father was again referring to Dean taking up Alistair's scalpel and getting off the rack and a renewed wave of guilt washed over him. "How'd you do it, Dad? How'd you hold out?" he asked.

John averted his gaze briefly before answering. "Anger," he said simply. His face softened as he looked back at his son. "I was just so angry. You've never had the anger in you that your brother and I always did." John actually smiled as he spoke the next words. "You're more like your Mom. Your strength is love. Only Alistair figured that out and used it against you."

"What do you mean?"

John shot a questioning look at his son. "You know," he said finally.

"Why do you imaginary people keep telling me that?"

"Deep inside, Dean, you know why you broke." His father looked away again. "And that was my fault too. He was all you had. I didn't allow you to have any kind of life of your own. For you, it was always about him. And for that, I'm sorry."

Dean had no idea what his father meant by that but John Winchester disappeared before he could ask him.

SPN-SPN-SPN

Cas became aware he was outside, topside in fresh air, among a sea of tropical looking trees and under a night sky. Miniel was crouched next to him, radiating concern.

"Can you heal yourself, Castiel?" he was saying and Cas realized it was the third time he had asked the question.

Cas took stock of his injuries. They were extensive but not irreparable. The problem, however, was his lack of strength. It was definitely insufficient to repair the damage to his physical being. He shook his head weakly, unable to speak just yet.

"Very well," Miniel continued, placing his hand on Castiel's chest and closing his eyes. Healing was not easily done by the lower ranks and took much strength away from the healer. It was also quite disruptive and had an adverse effect on the imminent surroundings. Cas remembered healing Dean's body as he placed the man's battered soul back inside it. He had been aided by four other angels, including Uriel, to complete the healing and it still had not been an easy task. It had been hours before he had been able to return to try and find Dean, who by that time had made it to a rural rest stop area and was stealing food, money, and a rather sinful-looking magazine publication.

He was grateful to Miniel for his help, though a little surprised. He had not shown the angel much compassion at the time of his disgrace, too caught up in the inarguable wrongness of his disobedience to care about his reasons.

"Were you ordered to help me?" he asked feebly, though already he could feel his wounds healing as the trees swayed violently around them.

Miniel shook his head. "I don't think they knew you were gone," he said solemnly. "I happened to be seeking you out at the time and found your empty vessel."

"Jimmy?" Cas struggled to sit up. "Where is he? Was he harmed?"

"He's fine," his comrade assured him, pushing him back down. "He won't wake up for a while. I left him in a safe place."

"I need to find him. I left Dean and Sam in some peril and I should check on them."

"Them?" Miniel asked with a hint of surprise in his voice. "Is the elder brother not your only charge? It was my understanding your task was to protect Dean Winchester, not both."

Cas settled, forcing himself to be patient while he was healed. "There would be no point in protecting Dean if something were to happen to Sam," he said frankly. "We would lose him anyway."

Miniel nodded in apparent understanding, gently helping Cas turn over so he could administer his powers to the twisted mass of feathers that used to be the angel's left wing. "Does your charge remember his time in Hell?" he asked in a compassionate tone.

"Most of it."

"He must be an admirable human to bear such memories and keep fighting."

Miniel's praise sounded genuine. Cas knew his brother had always held a great respect and love for the human race. "He is," he answered truthfully.

"Does he remember why he broke?"

Cas sighed in sympathy for Dean. "No, I don't believe so. At least, not yet," he answered truthfully.

"He refused Alistair for thirty years, which is commendable," Miniel commented, "but it was generally believed he would last until we could get to him. Thirty years of holding out and then he crumbled in less than a week. Many of our brethren were disappointed in him."

"Alistair realized the mistake he made with John Winchester. He knew Dean's weakness." Cas's angel voice contained a sharp, defensive edge despite the lingering frailty from his injuries.

"Yes, and he certainly found a creative way to exploit it," Miniel added, his tone holding no hint of blame towards the chosen Righteous Man who had broken the first seal. "Having the demons torturing him do so in the form of his younger brother..."

Castiel's wing was now healed and Miniel turned his brother back over gently. Cas immediately rose shakily to his feet, still listening to Miniel's words as he did so.

"Many of our brethren have voiced concern that Dean's guilt and self-loathing weaken him. Do you not think that knowing what Hell threw at him and why he faltered would help ease the guilt he bears about breaking the first seal?"

Cas stood still for a moment, concentrating on finishing the healing process himself. "No," he finally answered, straightening up. "I think regaining the image of his brother as his torturer would bring him more pain than peace."

In truth, he had considered telling Dean many times but believed he knew the man well enough now to understand why he had broken, why he had been no longer able to watch Sam's face laughing as he sliced into him over and over again. He did not want Dean to relive any part of his final week on the rack.

"Thank you, Miniel," he said sincerely. "But I must go now. Tell me, where is Jimmy Novak?"

SPN-SPN-SPN


	21. You Look Like Crap, Dean

_First off, I have to say thank you so much for reading and for the alerts and faves and for the reviews. This is the most reviews I have ever received on a story and it makes me excited and encouraged every time y'all take the time to leave one. So thanks!_

_In the last chapter, I gave you all a glimpse of my version of what made Dean break in Hell. I know John was one tough SOB, but so was Dean and I think if John lasted well over a hundred years, Dean would have also. Dean's weakness, if you want to call it that (I don't), was always his love and devotion to Sam and his lack of self-worth. I think having the baby brother he loved so much torture him would have killed him inside and fed into his sad belief that his family didn't love him like he loved them. It would have built up his self-loathing and feelings of worthlessness enough that he didn't think taking up Alistair's knife could make him any worse than he already was. Also, John and Sam were both driven by revenge and anger where as all Dean ever wanted was to keep his family together and with him - which could be spun as a weakness in the wrong circumstances. Of course, as one awesome reviewer pointed out, maybe John didn't last over a century, maybe he broke also and that's when the demons figured out he wasn't the Righteous Man after all. I had never heard that theory before...food for thought._

**Chapter 21** **– You Look Like Crap, Dean**

"Sam!" Dean cried with relief when his brother finally pushed open the freezer door, shoving the heavy shelf unit away with an impressive display of brute force an angry David Banner probably couldn't even pull off. Dean winced at the piercing scraping noise the steel frame made against the floor as it moved. "On occasion, you being a freaking sasquatch comes in handy, Sammy," he grinned, his voice barely more than a raspy whisper.

He had tried to get up after his father had vanished, determined to keep fighting and not let anyone down this time, but his efforts to move the shelf in his weakened state had again proved futile. Dean watched Sam's worried eyes search the room quickly and lock on his tired form slumped against the back wall. The kid closed the distance in three gigantic steps and fell to his knees in front of Dean, his hands reaching out to pat him down and assess his injuries.

"You look like crap, Dean," Sam breathed when he finished, seemingly assured his brother would live despite clearly not making it out even remotely close to unharmed.

"My crap look still beats your scruffy nerd look," Dean fired back, unable to wipe the grin off his face at his brother's welcome presence. "Now help me up."

Sam huffed in apparent frustration. "You're hurt, Dean."

"Yeah, so? What else is new? You gonna help me out of here or just sit there on your knees looking like a stunned monk?"

Sam rose to his feet but didn't offer Dean a hand up. Instead, he leaned over his brother in an imposing stance with his hands on his hips. "This isn't funny," he scolded. "You could easily die in here. You've been bleeding and it's freezing cold."

Dean let his smile of relief fall away and gave his brother an annoyed scowl. "You think I don't know that? But you're here now and I'm still breathing, so help me up and let's get out of here."

Sam still didn't reach for Dean's hand. "It's never going to stop," he said, looking away from the man on the floor at his feet. "They're gonna keep coming after you and you're gonna keep putting yourself in the direct line of fire until you're dead. _Again_."

"Can we worry about that next time please?" Dean pleaded, starting to sense something was wrong but wasn't quite able to put his finger on it. Things were still fuzzy and his brain seemed to be working in slow-motion.

"No, Dean. I'm gonna make sure there isn't a next time." Sam just looked pissed now. He took a step back and leaned against the side wall, his arms folded across his muscular chest.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, not really sure if he wanted an answer and even less sure that he was really having this conversation.

"What do you think it means?" Sam snapped. "It means that's enough. Enough of the angels dicking you around and throwing you in harm's way without backing you up. Enough of them filling your head with nonsense about how you're going to stop the Apocalypse and stop Lucifer. You know what's going to stop the Apocalypse, Dean?"

Sam didn't wait for an answer.

"Me. I am. I'm gonna kill Lillith and then this is all going to be over."

"No, Sam. You can't, remember? You tried that already and if I hadn't brought Chuck and his archangel on a leash, she would have sliced you from your gut to your throat."

Sam laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. "And you think you can? Seriously, Dean?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe..." Dean stammered, hating the familiar sight of the stranger in front of him. "Cas says that…"

"Cas? He's a grunt! He doesn't know any more than we do for crying out loud! And you know what? I killed Alistair when Cas couldn't touch him. _**I **_did that!" Sam took a step forward, jabbing his finger at his own chest as he spoke with vigour. "And I'm getting stronger. You know that. I will be able to kill Lillith. Pretty soon, I will."

"How?" Dean croaked, terrified and sickened at the same time. "The more you do this Sam, the more it changes you."

"You still harping on about me going darkside?" Sam spat.

"If you keep doing whatever it is you do…you will!"

"So what?"

That hadn't been the answer Dean had expected. He had been waiting for a denial, some measure of insistence from Sam that he could handle it and that he was the same little brother Dean had loved his whole life. The sweet, innocent boy who had always looked up to him whether he deserved it or not. The same kid whose biggest fear over the last three years had been the very thing he was dismissing now – going Vader.

"So what if I do turn darkside?" Sam continued. "If I have to become one to kill one, so be it. I mean, there are six billion lives at stake, Dean! You traded your soul for one person. You can't criticize me doing the same for _six billion_ people."

"You're scaring me, Sam."

"What else is new?"

Dean swallowed the hurt as those words stabbed at his insides. "You're gettin' to be more and more like Dad every day," he accused.

Sam didn't seem offended. "You idolized Dad." As he had the last time Dean had made the comparison out loud, Sam again misinterpreted it as a compliment. It wasn't intended as one.

"No," Dean argued. "I wanted his approval. I don't even know why I wanted it so badly anymore, but I did. My whole life, I tried to be like him, tried to measure up. And you know what the funny part is? I realize now that I don't want to be like him at all. 'Cause it wasn't him I idolized Sam; it was you."

Sam didn't look very convinced but didn't say anything so Dean continued, not caring at this point if this was the biggest chick flick conversation of his life or just another delusion, though he was sort of hoping for the latter.

"You always managed to stay so innocent and sympathetic and…unjaded, even growing up like we did. You cared about the people in the hunts, the victims, more than Dad ever did and you never backed down to Dad, no matter what. You gave me a moral line to stay behind, something good to live up to. I always thought that if I could keep you safe and keep that softness in you alive, then it didn't matter if the rest of the world was cold and hard and ugly... Dad included."

Dean was still sitting on the ground with his back to the wall but he noticed the freezer door was once again shut, the shelf unit still lying jammed up against it. Some small part in the back of his mind realized this meant Sam wasn't really standing before him but he didn't care. He figured if he was dying anyway he may as well get everything off his chest.

"Of course, I screwed that up," he snorted. "Big time. I've made some bad choices," he admitted. "Like dragging you back into this life when Dad left because I didn't want to be alone. I should never have done that to you."

Sam's face softened at Dean's words of self-blame, as they always did. "Jess would have died anyway," the younger Winchester told him sincerely. "And I just would have come looking for you to help me find the thing that killed her, so we would still have ended up here." Sam squatted back down in front of his brother. "Yellow-Eyes decided that for me, Dean. Not you. I would have gotten back into hunting regardless."

"But it's gone way past that, Sam, hasn't it? Way past just '_getting back into hunting'_." He looked as solemnly at his giant brother as he could past his blood-crusted, frozen eyelashes. "What's happening to you? I'm the one who went to Hell, I'm the one who tortured souls for a decade, I'm the one who's got this darkness inside me. Why does it seem to be spilling out of you? And don't give me any crap about some drop of demon blood when you were a baby or the psychic thing. Sammy... what went wrong?"

Sam was looking down at the ground now, averting his eyes from his older brother's gaze. Dean reached out and put his hand on the young hunter's knee as if willing Sam to look up and look him in the eye. "What happened, Sam? Did I do this to you?"

"Not everything's your fault Dean."

_Maybe not everything, but the Apocalypse was._ After that, did anything else really matter? Dean sighed, unable to share any more feelings without falling apart completely.

"Dude. Pot, kettle." He managed a weak chuckle as he passed out.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam wracked his brain trying to think of their next move as he, Josh, and Ruby left the yard of the mattress factory. He had no more leads. None of the meat suits of the demons in the lunchroom had lived, not that any survivors since Meg had remembered anything useful anyway. He and Ruby had been exorcizing them for months and had yet to find a single one that knew anything about Lillith's whereabouts. The demons themselves never talked; this time hadn't been any different. How was he going to find Dean? Damnit, Dean could be hurt or dying or... fuck, he needed to find him!

"You want me to stick around?" Ruby asked him as they neared the cars.

"No," Sam said quickly. "But stay close. I'll call you if I need you."

Sam missed the flicker of annoyance the abrupt dismissal brought to Ruby's face as he tossed his weapons in the Impala's trunk. It quickly morphed into one of apparent concern.

"You'll find him, Sam," she encouraged as she opened her driver's door. "I'll keep trying to dig up some leads."

Sam gave her a curt nod of thanks, somewhat acknowledging her effort at compassion. Considering how she felt about Dean, that couldn't have been easy. He sank his bulk into the seat behind the Impala's wheel and gave Josh a brief glance as the other man slid into the passenger seat. Sam started the engine and pulled away hurriedly. _Another murder scene to flee. _This was getting to be a habit.

"What's our next move?" Josh asked when they were a safe distance away. "The demons must have been using the factory as home base but I don't think those poor schmucks really knew anything about your brother."

It occurred to Sam that the blond man liked to think through his options out loud. Unlike most hunters, he seemed to be what would be considered a team player. Sam was used to this when working with Dean and Bobby, but it felt odd working with anyone else. It irked the younger Winchester that Josh had referred to the demons he had killed as 'poor schmucks' but he decided to let it slide. Josh had to have been referring to the meat suits, after all.

"Netiran was brought back this morning," Sam pointed out. "That was hours ago. So why were the demons still hanging out at the factory?"

Josh looked thoughtful. "Maybe their work in Denver isn't done. Should we stake out the factory?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not sitting around on the off chance more demons who probably don't know anything show up while Dean could be injured or dying somewhere." He let out an exasperated sigh. "We don't even know if the demons are involved. It was a shapeshifter that took him."

"What possible reason could a shapeshifter have to kidnap Dean?"

"I don't know. Goddamnit, I just don't know."

Josh could tell Sam was scared and didn't really have anything to say that would help. "Can I use your laptop, bro?" he asked. "I'll check and see what else I can dig up about our dead security guard. The shifter's obviously been living his life for a while; his car, his house, his work. Maybe we can score us another lead."

Sam directed him under the passenger seat. For the next twenty minutes, he drove around the city as Josh tapped keys on the laptop, using his phone for a wireless connection. Not wanting to go to the motel but not really having any particular destination in mind, Sam traveled the backstreets as he tried to work out his next move in his head. He wasn't aware he was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently as he worked himself closer and closer to all out panic.

"Mind if I ask you something?" Josh asked after a while, not looking up from the laptop.

Sam groaned inwardly. Generally when somebody asked permission to ask a question, it meant the recipient wouldn't like the question. _God, he missed Dean and his complete avoidance of any personal topics of conversation._ "What?" he said with a hint of reluctance.

"Last year you said you just got death visions so what's with the psychic growth spurt? It's like you hit demonic puberty or something." Josh flinched and bit his lip in regret at the way the last part had come out. He hadn't intended to imply the powers were demonic, even if the kid did have demon blood in him from some incident when he was a baby. Nevertheless, he continued. "I wasn't sure what I saw you do to Ella but those demons in that factory, you killed them with your mind, didn't you?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat. "I only killed two," he defended. "The first one I just exorcised back to Hell."

He was aware of Josh studying him intently now and kept his eyes trained forward on the road.

"I take it Dean doesn't like you doing that."

Sam pursed his lips and rolled his shoulders in irritation. "Yeah, well, Dean isn't always right. Like you said, handy mojo to have, right?"

Josh gave him a dubious look. "I dunno. Yes and no, I guess."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam would much rather be working with Ruby right now. At least she didn't judge him for trying to get stronger.

"Well, you managed to take out those demons and Ella, which is good." Josh had turned his attention back to the laptop and kept typing as he spoke. Sam wasn't sure if he was just multi-tasking or didn't want to look him in the eye. "But Ivan got superstrong when he drank your blood. He didn't go down after I shot him with enough dead man's blood to take down three vamps."

Sam stiffened in his seat. "What did Dean tell you happened at the school?" he asked warily.

"That Netty got out and Ivan killed Colby, why?"

"So you're blaming me for that?" Sam's voice was rising in pitch the way it usually did when he was tense or angry. It seemed Dean had spared Josh the burden of knowing that Colby had died protecting him but Sam was damned if he was going to take the rap.

"No, no," Josh said quickly, this time looking at Sam to make his point. "I'm just saying it's handy but potentially dangerous is all."

"Everything's dangerous these days," Sam pointed out.

"In the wrong hands. On the wrong side."

"You saying I'm on the wrong side?" Sam was more than defensive now.

"No, just... well Ruby might be. She is a demon, after all."

"I'm not stupid. I know what she is. Fuck, you're as bad as Dean." A sudden lump formed in Sam's throat at the mention of his brother and the car fell silent for a long minute.

"Okay, one more question," Josh ventured finally.

The younger man groaned. "What now?"

"Are you tweaking?"

"What?" He threw his passenger an outraged look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Tweaking. On speed," Josh explained, not sounding apologetic at the accusation. "Or maybe amped, chalked up, high, coasting, lifted, hopped up…I think you know what I mea…"

"No!" Sam cut him off, more upset and unnerved than actually angry. "Why would you even think that?"

_Damnit, why couldn't Josh just keep his heart-to-hearts to himself like any normal guy did? Like Dean did. _

"Gee, I wonder." The sarcasm was blatant. "One second you're calm, then you're angry as Hell, and not just today with Dean missing. Your eyes are majorly high-beaming right now but a few hours ago, you practically had no pupils at all. You seriously can't stop twitching and I understand you're nervous about Dean, but you never did that last time he went missing. You just seem…different. On edge." He shrugged. "You seem high."

"I'm not on drugs!" Sam insisted, way past offended. "What do you take me for?"

"A smart kid who's got a lot on his shoulders," Josh answered in a non-judgmental tone. "Like, a _really big_ a lot. Apocalyptic big. Your brother seems to deal by drinking. It wouldn't be that surprising if you…"

"Well, no, I'm not on drugs so you can save your intervention speech. I'm just stressed is all," Sam managed, sounding a lot calmer than he was feeling. "You find anything yet?"

Josh reluctantly turned his attention back to the laptop. "Just that Misha Skerritt has a mother who lives in Aurora and a brother who owns a restaurant in Southeast Denver. He owns the piece-of-crap car he left at the gas station but took out a second mortgage a few years back and isn't anywhere near paying off his home. No alternate addresses, no second jobs, nothing out of ordinary with his banking history. No criminal record, no speeding tickets, no leads. Sorry, bro."

"How'd you find all that out so fast?" Sam inquired, mainly curious but partially just trying to keep the subject off him and his apparent questionable behavior of late.

"Uh, well, I hope you don't mind but I uploaded a decoder program for you. If you know how to use it, it can get you into DMV, banks, State Police databases, and sometimes tax records." He looked up with a grin. "You can't change or move anything though, it strictly gives you eyes in there. You can't transfer some douchebag's money out of his account or give him a rap sheet full of indecent exposure charges, so don't let your brother get too excited."

A thought struck Sam. "Police, huh?"

Josh had no clue what idea was forming in Sam's head but judging by his expression, it was a promising one. "What are you thinking, Junior?"

"I'm thinking we need to find your Bronco. Denver's way too big for us to drive around and hope we spot it, but we could let the Denver Police do our work for us."

"Report it stolen?" Josh looked skeptical. "You think that would end well for Dean?"

Sam's brain was still churning. "No, we go in as feds and put an APB out on it. Is there a way we can get them to report it to us and not try pull it over though? I don't want to spook the shifter into maybe hurting my brother."

Josh's eyes widened at the potential of Sam's idea. "Totally. We ask them to put a DNA order on it and get them to call it in to us when they find it."

"DNA?"

"Do Not Approach. We tell them it's in regards to a deep undercover case. Yeah, this could work...Hmmm, only one problem, though. This is Denver, not some backwater hick town so they'll probably try to call our home office to verify us after we leave. Could backfire if we're busted and get their curiosity going."

Sam grinned, feeling the first glimpse of promise since they had left the factory. "I got that covered," he assured his passenger, knowing Bobby would set anyone straight should they call one of the six phones he had lining the wall of his kitchen. Assistant Director Singer was especially good with the one marked FBI.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam and Josh got the call three hours after they had left the police station in their suits and they screeched into the French restaurant parking lot five minutes after that, pulling up next to the Bronco. Josh grumbled as he took a cursory look inside his car and noticed all his console gadgetry was missing along with half the stuff from the trunk, including his new Guitar Hero gear. Hopefully his weapons and laptop were still stashed in the secret compartment he had made after admiring the one Papa Winchester had made in the Impala.

"In the restaurant," Sam said tersely, realizing it was the only building around and that the shifter wouldn't have had Dean park here just to walk somewhere else. He strode towards the building, only vaguely aware that Josh wasn't behind him. The door was locked and he rattled it hard in frustration. He glanced behind him to see Josh had crossed the road and was flashing a badge in the window of a waiting patrol car across the street. Whatever he said it must have been convincing because the car pulled away, the officer behind the wheel giving them a friendly nod.

Sam stooped and picked up a rock and no sooner than the police car had pulled away, he tossed it through the glass on the restaurant door. He reached his hand in and unlocked it from the inside, not waiting for Josh to catch up before moving inside with his gun drawn.

"Dean!" he called loudly, searching every room. "Dean!"

Josh came in as Sam burst out of the washrooms and headed into the kitchen, still calling his brother frantically. The kitchen was empty but there were pots and cutlery strewn on the floor as if there had been a struggle. Both men noticed and came to the same conclusion. Josh yanked open the walk-in fridge door as Sam reached for the one to the freezer. By the time Josh came back out shaking his head to indicate the fridge was clean, Sam was shouldering the freezer door for the fourth time.

"Something's jamming it shut," he said tersely, not sure if this was a good sign or not. If Dean wasn't in there then they were screwed because they had no more leads. But if his brother _was_ in there, things may be a lot worse than screwed. Dean had been missing a long time and the freezer was on...

Josh came over to help and with the two of them throwing themselves at the door in unison, it moved, scraping open just enough for Sam to squeeze his massive chest through.

He clambered into the freezer not even noticing the coldness of the air as his eyes scanned the mess inside for Dean. He saw the shapeshifter first, facing away from him and his heart skipped a beat with dread before he realized it wasn't his brother. An instant later, he spotted Dean.

His brother was on the floor, slumped against the back wall with his hands hanging limply at his sides and blood coating the left side of his face. Thick, dark red streaks ran from his eyebrow down across his cheek, mouth, and chin where they had ended up on the front of his shirt. Dean was pale and still and terror tore at Sam for the eternity it seemed to take him to make the three giant strides to his brother's side. He dropped to one knee, his hand shaking in fear as he reached for Dean's neck, deathly afraid of what he might not find when he searched for a pulse.

Dean moved before he could find one, tipping his head ever-so-slightly into Sam's touch. Sam shifted his hand quickly from his brother's neck to the side of his face. "Dean," he breathed, practically willing the hunter to open his eyes. That was the only word he could manage at the moment as the hitch in his voice prevented any more words from coming out.

Dean's eyelids fluttered and Sam caught a glimpse of familiar hazel trying to focus on his face. "S'mmy," he slurred in barely a whisper.

"Yeah, I'm here Dean. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?"

"I'm s'rry," Dean murmured. "I should've held out…"

"Hey, hey, it's fine," Sam assured his brother, patting down his slumped form for any signs of broken ribs or other injuries. "You held out long enough, I'm here now."

"Not long enufff…only th'rty years."

Sam realized with a wrenching jolt that Dean was talking about opening the first seal again. It pained him to see his brother so emotionally torn up, more so than the physical wounds did. His chest constricted and he could feel a lump forming in his throat. Why was Dean always so hard on himself? As if lasting thirty years wasn't good enough. As if that wasn't decades more than any normal person would have lasted. As if any of this was Dean's fault.

Ending this thing was going to be the only way to ease Dean's guilt about the whammy Alistair had hit him with about starting the whole Apocalypse ball rolling.

"I wish you really were here, S'my," Dean continued as Sam pulled his brother's arm over his shoulder and prepared to lift him to his feet.

"I am here," he answered softly. "Let's get you warmed up."

"Not…cold...and you…were wrong." Dean grunted as he was lifted and hung limply off his brother's side, held up by the arm wrapped over Sam's broad shoulders.

"Wrong about what?" Sam played along, gripping his weak and bloodied brother firmly by the wrist and the waistband as he started towards the door. Josh was watching them in silence from a few feet away, an appalled but concerned look on his face.

"Wrong 'bout Lillith," Dean mumbled, his words barely audible. "Stay away from her…please. We'll find ahh-noth-ther way."

Sam wasn't sure which conversation about Lillith Dean was referring to but he pulled his brother's dead weight closer to his own side in a meager attempt at comfort, spurred on more by the anguish in Dean's voice than the tired, familiar words that were coming out of his mouth.

As he manoeuvred the barely conscious hunter through the narrow door opening, Sam looked back to see Josh pulling Ruby's knife out of the dead shapeshifter and rifling through its pockets for his car keys. It was weird seeing two Josh's at once but weird had become so commonplace in Sam's life that it barely registered as disturbing.

Dean was babbling something about their father when Sam lowered him down on the leather loveseat in the restaurant's waiting area near the front door. Dean's skin was cold to the touch and Sam knew there was no doubt he was suffering from some degree of hypothermia. He couldn't tell how much of the lack of lucidity could be attributed to that and how much may be caused by the obvious headwounds. He ghosted his fingers around Dean's scalp, biting his lip when he discovered more blood crusted in the hair on the back of his head and at least two large lumps near the base of his skull.

He gently removed Dean's shirt, a difficult task since it was soaked with blood and frozen stiff. He cut the t-shirt off and by the time he unbuttoned his brother's jeans, Josh had appeared next to him with a pile of tablecloths.

"Sorry," Josh shrugged apologetically, "it's all I can find."

Sam nodded in approval and spread a few gently over Dean's now unconscious form, covering the upper half while he pulled the frozen hunter's boots and jeans off. He turned to Josh but the blond man had anticipated the request and cut him off.

"The tap's running. I'll get you some warm water and we'll see if we can get him to drink." He turned back towards the kitchen. "You need to keep him awake, bro," he warned over his shoulder.

Sam knew this. Dean needed to be warmed up from the inside out and the best way to do that was to get him to drink warm liquids. Dunking him in a lukewarm shower was an option but not a favourable one since he could have a stroke or heart attack if they got the blood in his extremities pumping too fast and it reached his heart while still cold. He covered his brother's now bare legs with more layers of soft tablecloths, debating removing his own clothing and crawling in with Dean to transfer his own body heat.

God he hated seeing his brother like this.

He leaned over and gently nudged Dean's bloody face. "Dean," he said softly. "Dean."

Thankfully, he got a reaction. A low moan escaped the prone hunter before his eyes once again fluttered open. Sam manoeuvred his way into Dean's view and placed his hands on his cheeks to get his attention. "Dean. I need you to stay awake. Can you stay awake?"

He got a barely perceptible nod in response. Relief swept through Sam as he very gently and very slowly rubbed through the tablecloths on his brother's arms and legs, trying to bring his body temperature up at an acceptable pace. Dean was shivering now, which Sam took as a good sign as it put him in the 'mild to moderate hypothermia' category rather than the severe one.

Josh showed up again with a mug of warm water and handed it to Sam to administer. The weak hunter didn't complain when Sam propped him up against his large upper torso and tipped the mug up against his lips, one arm wrapped around him from behind. Josh stood back and didn't interfere. After a few moments, when Dean shook his head at the offered mug, still shivering but unable to consume any more, Josh handed Sam a warm, wet cloth. "For his head," he whispered, pointing to the mass of crusted blood.

Sam nodded in appreciation and started to dab gently at his brother's face. Dean didn't resist but simply leaned his head against Sam's shoulder, his brother's arm still holding him up and still wrapped shivering in a mass of blue tablecloths. While the complacency at the physical contact was definitely not a good sign, the fact that Dean remained conscious was.

The blood washed away to reveal a deep gash over Dean's left eyebrow and a couple more within his hairline on the back of his head. They had stopped bleeding, Sam realized, probably due to the cold, but would need stitches once Dean's blood was warm and started flowing properly again.

Eventually, Dean's shivering started to subside and he managed to drink some even warmer cocoa that Josh whipped up in his need to be doing something. Sam sat holding him and rubbing through the tablecloths the entire time but the younger brother's first real relief didn't come until Dean whined something about Sam getting frisky and why the Hell was he almost naked when there were no hot chicks around?

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap... Sam gets sentimental, Alex gives the boys the letter for Josh, and Dean gets a brief respite before I pick on him again..._


	22. World's Best Brother

_Hi everyone :-) Hope you are all enjoying the story so far. I just want to take a sec to make sure everyone knows that I LOVE Sam, adore him to bits really, and I __**know**__ he is the polar opposite of what his thinking sometimes makes him out to be in this story, but remember this takes place just a week or so before Sam tries to strangle Dean on the floor of that hotel room and takes off with Ruby to kill Lillith - kind of a dark time for our youngest Winchester hero. _

_Any of you ever have someone you care about get hooked on drugs? I hope not because it is a terrible thing to see and the person you knew becomes someone else entirely and you hardly recognize them anymore (until they get clean). The stuff they say and do and the way they rationalize things just... ahhh. That has been my experience, anyway, and the way I see it, Sam was akin to a drug-addict by this point. This also takes place shortly after the siren episode (Sex and Violence), where the boys said some very hurtful things to each other and are still feeling the fallout. IMO, in all of the 8 seasons, this was the __absolute lowest point__ in their relationship. That said, despite everything, they still love each other to bits and Sam's intentions were ALWAYS good. I'm rambling here, I know, but I just wanted to say I know I am being hard on Sam in this fic, but deep inside, beneath the demon blood's influence and Ruby's manipulations, he's still our darling Sammy and hopefully you are still seeing glimpses of that in my portrayal. Please don't hate him (or me, lol). Okay, I'll shut up now, let you read on..._

**Chapter 22**** - World's Best Brother**

It was a couple of hours before dawn and Josh sat on the end of the unused bed of the motel room, not daring to lie down for fear of falling asleep. Dean lay still in the adjacent bed, his slow and steady breathing the only sound in the room. He had been out for about six hours and Josh wasn't sure that was a good thing. He had strongly suggested they take him to a hospital but Dean had insisted he would be fine and, in Josh's opinion, Sam had given in far too quickly to his older brother's demands. Had it been Lex who was unconscious and delusional with multiple head wounds for seven hours while fighting the effects of hypothermia, Josh would have driven her straight to the nearest emergency room whether she liked it or not. Like the Winchesters, the Brentons avoided the hospitals whenever they could, but head wounds were a tricky thing. And the state Dean had been in when they found him...

After stitching the worst of Dean's head wounds up, Sam had stayed with his brother all evening and well into the night, impressively ignoring Dean's constant bitching and 'Annie Wilkes' references. The kid had managed to keep Dean awake long enough to assure himself that he wouldn't have any lasting effects of a concussion or hypothermia while Josh had spent the time taking care of some other pressing matters. Josh had returned to the room in the middle of the night to find Dean finally sleeping and Sam sitting on the bed right next to him, leaning back against the headboard with a hand resting on his brother's shoulder.

While he had been out, Josh had disposed of his dead look-a-like, taking it wrapped in tablecloths to a desolate spot outside of the city and burning it beyond any recognition before burying it in the woods. All in all, getting rid of his own body had been a strange experience, one he hoped he never had to repeat.

Next he had met Rufus Taylor at the airport and driven him to get Colby's car, which had miraculously still been parked outside the school, not fifty feet from the yellow police tape around the property. As promised, Sam had procured Rufus's number from this Bobby guy and Josh had called the older hunter while waiting for the Denver police to find his missing Bronco. The man had been quite rude and had hung up on him twice before Josh had managed to blurt out that Colby Hutchins was dead. There had been a long silence on the line after that and the hunter's voice had been strained when he finally asked what happened. Clearly the antisocial hunter had a genuine fondness for Colby. Not that Josh found that surprising; Colby had been extremely likeable. There had been an unmistakable sweetness to him that he couldn't hide even through all the tough hunter crap.

Rufus had pressed him for details on what had happened to Colby and, at Sam's request, Josh had kept the story focused on Ivan, making no mention of an Apocalyptic ritual. Rufus had claimed to be retired but Josh got the impression he didn't expect to stay that way for long, especially now that things had 'become personal' as he'd put it. He was particularly curious about the Winchesters' involvement and Josh got the impression the guy knew he was holding back some of the details. The older hunter had just assumed Josh was going to stick around Denver to take Ivan down on Colby's behalf and told him to let him know when the vampire was dead. Josh had long since realized that revenge was one of the main driving forces behind most hunters and agreed to make sure Ivan got his due.

As he had started up the Mustang with a sad look on his face, Rufus rolled down the driver's window and issued Josh a somewhat gruff and awkward warning to be careful around those Winchester boys, adding that if he wasn't, he'd surely end up like Colby. Josh had felt defensive at first, thinking no blame could be put on Sam and Dean for what had happened to the young hunter. The brothers hadn't asked for all the trouble that kept getting thrown their way. He had been about to say something to that effect when Rufus added that very bad times were coming and those 'two unfortunate bastards' were stuck smack in the middle of everything. There was no blame or resentment in the old guy's voice so Josh let it go, hoping he was doing the right thing as the hunter rumbled away in Colby's pride and joy.

Sam had left the room for the first time since they brought Dean back here from the restaurant and he had asked Josh to keep his eye on his sleeping brother until he got back. Now, sitting in the quiet, dimly lit room with no distractions, Josh suddenly missed his sister tremendously. He had spent the last fifteen minutes taking several photos of Ruby's knife, his plan being to try and duplicate it later despite Sam's insistence that it wasn't that simple. He figured anything was worth a try. If the knife could kill demons, maybe it would kill Red-Eyes. With that bastard dead, surely Lex would give up this ridiculous notion of him living a normal life without her.

_Like he could do normal now, anyway_. After all he'd seen and all he knew, normal wasn't in the cards for him any more than it was for her. He could admit he would like to have a permanent home base and to be able to see his old friends and use his own name, but John Mellencamp kind of average just wasn't gonna happen. He enjoyed hunting and the sense of fulfillment and worth it gave him when they saved somebody, but he never wanted it to consume his life like it seemed to with most hunters he had met, including Sam and Dean. There was too much darkness in a life like that. Too much pain and violence and evil monsters coming out on top. But he wouldn't ever be able to get a full-time nine to five and just pretend monsters didn't exist, even if he didn't find his sister. He had a basic moral obligation to do something about it, especially with a possible apocalypse on the horizon.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out Dean's phone again. He hadn't returned it during their search for the missing hunter and decided to take advantage of this now. He scrolled through Dean's contact list, noting the names and numbers in his own phone. As far as he could tell, his sister wasn't on the list but that didn't surprise him since she apparently couldn't talk on the phone anymore anyway in case Red-Eyes was listening in. There were no ingoing or outgoing texts. Either Dean erased them right away or wasn't much for texting. Josh figured the latter, judging by Dean's mediocre computer knowledge and his archaic stereo setup in the Impala. He hovered the curser over the number of 'Bobby', also the second number in Dean's speed-dial list, right below Sam.

Dean had repeatedly assured him that Lex wasn't alone and that she had someone the brothers trusted very much looking out for her. From what he could tell, the Winchesters didn't trust too many people so this Bobby character was the top candidate right now. The brothers had called him for advice at every turn of this hunt and, as far as Josh could tell, they hadn't called anyone else besides Ruby, even when Dean had gone missing. He was fairly certain his sister wasn't hanging with Ruby so when this hunt was finished and the Winchesters finally gave him the slip (for he was certain they would be doing just that eventually), the first place he would go would be South Dakota, to the 605 area code. He shouldn't have much trouble tracking down the owner of this number, or at least tracing the call next time this Bobby guy used the phone.

Shelby gave a quiet whimper and nuzzled his hand. Josh gave her an affectionate petting, wondering what the heck he was going to do with her. Rufus had convinced him she would not be happy at his place and Josh had to admit, the dog hadn't been particularly receptive towards the unfriendly man. Josh knew he couldn't keep her since he and Lex often had to up and leave town right away and inevitably, Red-Eyes would show up when the dog was not with them and they wouldn't be able to go back for her. He didn't like the idea of being forced to abandon her at some point so he figured he'd have to find a home for her soon.

He was startled suddenly by what appeared to be the figure of a man in his peripheral, standing in the far corner of the room. When he looked up, however, there was nothing there. Positive he had seen a flash of beige, Josh reached for the Desert Eagle he had sitting on the bed next to him, moving it closer to him and ghosting his finger nervously over the trigger.

SPN-SPN-SPN

Sam had taken advantage of Josh's return to the motel room just before four a.m., asking him to watch over Dean while he stepped out for a bit. There wasn't anything in particular the young hunter had needed to do, he just wanted to get some air and get some space from his seemingly constant source of worry these days, Dean. Held back by that very same worry, however, he was unable to stray far from the seedy motel room's door. He popped open the trunk of the Impala and sorted the weaponry out after the chaos of the previous night and day. They had left a couple of shotguns in the school and had used all of the silver bullets Josh had given them. They were running low on consecrated iron rounds and salt, too.

Sam rearranged the disorganized hidden compartment piece by piece, a smile spreading across his face when he imagined the ribbing his brother would have been giving him right now.

'_Hey OCD boy, you almost done?_'

Dean kept his weapons clean and in perfect shape but as far as the Impala's trunk went, he tended to just know instinctively where in the jumble of weaponry they were when he needed them. Sam preferred a more organized approach, assigning a spot for each weapon and grouping similar weapons together etcetera. He was packing the boxes of ammunition in the bottom left corner when he was reminded of the 'even more secret' compartment within the secret weapons compartment, the spot they had reserved for the Colt and now held the valuable dagger they had stolen from a fanatical cult leader last year.

He pushed his fingers into a recess at the back of the trunk and pried open the small lid to the extra compartment. Feeling guilty, he reached in and felt around until he found a small, metal box stashed in the far corner of the hole, so far back that if you didn't know it was there you would think it was simply the back of the hole. His fingertips gripped its edges and he pulled it out slowly. He made quick work of the small padlock on its front and turned around, leaning his tailbone against the rim of the Impala's trunk as he opened the lid slowly.

He had discovered this box a year ago, just a couple of weeks after he had buried the ripped and bloodied remains of his brother that the Hellhounds had left for him. It had been an accidental find but his curiosity had been piqued and he had opened it almost immediately. As he opened it for the second time now, he remembered vividly both the surprise and the anguish its contents had brought him the first time round. He had found a number of small items, most of which he had recognized as his - or things pertaining to him – like the front tooth he had lost in his first school fight. The other boy had been at least twice his size and the only punch the bully got in was the one that had knocked out the tooth. Dean had been so proud of his little brother that day he'd come home bragging gloriously to their father of Sam's skills only to receive a stern reprimand for attracting unwanted attention in school.

Then there was the 'World's Best Brother' badge that Sam had made for Dean in the first grade. The younger Winchester had broken down into tears when he discovered Dean had kept that childish token of adoration for so many years, hidden away from both Sam and their father.

But the one that had surprised him the most was the photo, clearly taken with a low-pixelated camera phone and probably printed off at a Wal-Mart somewhere. It was of him and Jess, walking down the street hand in hand, both smiling, taken from some distance away. Dean had since informed him that their Dad had passed through Paola Alto to surreptitiously check on Sam while he had been attending Stanford, but had not admitted to having also done it himself. The night Dean had shown up at his apartment, his supposedly estranged brother had convincingly pretended he was seeing Jessica for the first time. Sam pulled this photo out now and surprised himself again at how young and how happy he looked. It had only been four years or so since it was taken but it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Sam had realized the first time he'd opened this box that it was Dean's version of Dad's storage locker. It was a place for all his brother's keepsakes and things that had some sentimental value to the hunter, even though Dean would deny to the death having even an ounce of sentimentality. Funny thing, Sam thought, how out of the three Winchester men, it was Sam who turned out to be the least sentimental. He had taken nothing with him to Stanford and had nothing of Jessica but memories.

Sam hadn't mentioned finding Dean's treasure box when his brother had been brought back from Hell, knowing it would only serve to embarrass the emotionally repressed hunter. He had known his whole life that Dean was a far kinder, far more caring person than he ever let on in public but was still moved by the sense of intimacy snooping through the box had given him. He fished through the box again now, spurred on by the close call his brother had had today and feeling a sudden need to be close to him.

He was surprised to find a few new items among the ones he'd already seen. He pulled out the most obvious of these, a baseball that took up almost half the space in the box, turning it over in his hands to find the autograph of Johan Santana and a date, September 2004. Santana had been a starting pitcher for the Minnesota Twins in 2004 and Sam knew immediately the ball must have belonged to Adam, the brother they had discovered just days too late.

With a painful swallow, he dropped the ball back in and started rooting again, this time finding a somewhat cheap-looking leather beaded bracelet. He wondered what significance that could hold for Dean. He surmised it was from some chick but found it surprising it would find its way into his brother's secret stash. The only other items he could tie to women were a newspaper article cut-out with the name Cassandra Robinson on the byline and an autographed press picture of Tara Benchley, complete with lipstick imprint. He figured the latter was more for future bragging rights than any emotional attachment and chuckled at how 'Dean' that was.

The next thing that hadn't been in the box the last time he'd opened it was a large, yellow fang. Sam pulled it out and flipped it around in his hand, trying to place what beast they had come up against that could have lost this. He was thinking it must have been quite a spectacular slay that Dean had kept a memento but he couldn't for the life of him think what monster it had been.

Then it hit him. A Hellhound. It must have come from one of the Hellhounds that had ripped his brother to shreds. It wasn't inconceivable that a fang had been somewhere on, or maybe even _in_, Dean's body when Sam had buried him. But why would Dean want to be reminded of that day? Of his death? His very, _very_ unpleasant death.

Unsettled by the memory, Sam dropped the tooth back in the box. He was about to close it and go back inside to check on his brother when another object caught his eye. Stuck up against the side of the box was a feather, a smallish black feather that seemed to shimmer as it caught the faint light from the nearby streetlamp. Mesmerized, he pulled it out and held it up in front of his face. Though it definitely classified as black, the feather seemed to radiate an array of colours that moved within the barbs, creating what could only be described as an aura. What creature could this possibly have been from?

He felt a faint breeze and heard a whispery flutter but before he could turn around, Castiel's voice sounded from directly behind him.

"Sam, what's wrong with your broth…where did you get that feather?"

Sam spun to face the angel, leaning back slightly over the Impala's trunk as he found Cas standing barely ten inches away from him, well within his personal space barrier.

"Is that one of mine?" Castiel looked up at him with a disapproving, slightly embarrassed frown.

"Uh, no. I found it in the Impala," Sam stammered, shoving it back in the box quickly and snapping the lid shut before dropping it in the trunk behind him. His mind was spinning with curiosity; for some reason he had always thought angels' wings were white. "What are you doing here?" he deflected, suddenly feeling awkward.

Cas's creased brow smoothened slightly and he took a step backwards, taking note of Sam's bent posture stretching uncomfortably away from him. Dean had told him numerous times about standing too close. "What happened to Dean?" he asked solemnly. "He's not dreaming and I can't speak to him. And who is the man in there with him?" The angel tipped his chin towards the motel door.

Sam sighed. "That's just Josh, a hunter friend," he dismissed. "As for Dean, I think he's gonna be fine but he almost died today, Cas." Sam pursed his lips, his frustration with the angels in general boiling up to the surface at the memory of finding Dean covered in blood and half frozen to death only a few hours earlier. He knew Cas in particular didn't deserve to receive the brunt of his anger but there weren't any other 'dicks with wings' around. "_Again,_" he added with more than a hint of accusation. "I thought you were supposed to be looking out for him. How's he supposed to do your bidding and stop the Apocalypse if he's dead?"

Sam backed down slightly when he noticed a brief flash of what looked like guilt pass across the angel's borrowed face.

"I'm sorry," Cas said evenly. "I was held up."

"Held up!" Sam's temper flared again at the overly casual response. "While Dean was freezing to death? Where in the Hell were you, Castiel?"

Cas gave him his usual intense blue-eyed stare. "Exactly," he said grimly. "I was in Hell."

Sam hesitated and his eyes widened as he processed the angel's words. In his worry and relief over Dean, he had forgotten that Netiran had thrown his mojo at Cas and disappeared him into thin air. They hadn't any idea what had been done to him but Sam never guessed he had been sent to Hell.

Cas continued, ignoring the shocked look on the young hunter's face. "Netiran sent me to Hell when I challenged him in the school."

"How'd he do that?" Sam breathed. He could send demons back to Hell but to send an angel there, that must take some incredible mojo, more than he would have thought possible.

"As I told you before, he can transfer beings to and from Hell."

"Well, that's not exactly what you said," Sam corrected, replacing the anger from his voice with concern and appreciation of what the angel had gone through in an effort to protect them at the school. "You said he's the keeper of a gate that the entire host of Heaven can't destroy."

Cas lifted his shoulders in the closest thing Sam had ever seen him do to a shrug. "Perhaps a better explanation would have been that he _is_ the gate. And I spoke the truth; an angel cannot kill Netiran. His powers were given to him by Lucifer himself, much like Lillith."

"_I'll_ kill him then. I mean, every demon up here is gunning for my brother and I'm not about to let Netiran start plucking the worst of the bunch topside so they can have a go at him too. So I'll kill him, like I did Alistair."

Cas gave the hunter a stern look. "He is far more powerful than Alistair, Sam, and is not entirely demon. I believe he would be immune and it would be foolish to attempt it."

Sam wasn't sure whether or not he believed Cas and didn't altogether rule out the option of taking Netiran out himself but decided not to press the issue with an angel he didn't particularly trust. "What about an archangel then?" he pressed. "It was an archangel that killed him the first time round, wasn't it?"

Cas pulled his mouth to the side in a gesture of disapproval towards his celestial superiors. "The archangels do not involve themselves in such matters unless it is warranted," he deadpanned.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "And this doesn't count as warranted? The freaking Apocalypse?"

"There are rules, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Somehow I think these rules only apply to our side of this war," he griped. "So are you alright? How'd you get out of Hell, anyway?"

"A friend," Cas replied simply. "The seal has been lost," he continued, changing the subject back to Netiran. "But it would be advantageous to prevent further use of the gate."

"Well, I agree with you there," Sam admitted, realizing this was the first strategic conversation he and Cas had ever had without Dean present. Sam couldn't be sure, but he suspected that Cas went out of his way to appear to Dean when Sam wasn't around. "So if me and the archangels are out, you got any other ideas?"

"No."

The hunter let out an annoyed huff. His brother's angel could be both aggravatingly blunt and completely useless sometimes. "Well, what would you suggest?" he pressed. "You're the angel, Cas, you've been around for thousands of years. Somehow I think you stand a better chance of coming up with some useful leads with Heaven's archives at your disposal. We've just got Bobby's library and there's next to nothing on Netiran in it."

The angel gave him an apologetic look. "I will see what I can find out. My superiors don't reveal much and I'm afraid they are becoming somewhat distrustful of me of late."

"Why?" Sam demanded, knowing already he wouldn't like the answer. But Castiel was gone, leaving him standing talking to himself at the trunk of the Impala, a hint of a breeze softly tapping his face.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**June 2, 2009 (the day before Josh gets out of jail)...**_

Sam was tossing his duffel into the Impala's trunk outside the motel in Marsland, Nebraska. It was barely seven o'clock in the morning but he'd found a hot lead on a possible werewolf and had decided to wake Dean up early. The elder, night-owl Winchester had grumbled but had rolled himself out of bed and was just getting out of the shower when Sam had started to pack the car. Since they had burned the remains of their newly found brother two weeks ago, the two remaining Winchesters hadn't been talking much. Sam figured he would take a page from Dean's book and keep them busy so the awkward silences weren't so noticeable and the subject of Adam was less likely to come up.

He didn't pay much attention to the blue Bronco backing in to the spot next to Dean's car nor the noisy contraption of a vehicle that pulled in on his other side since the raised trunk blocked any view of their occupants. He heard the old car rattle and clang its way into the parking spot next to the Impala, shuddering in protest as it was shut off, but it wasn't until he heard an excited shout of his name that he bothered to look up.

"Sam!"

He straightened up to his full height and spun around sharply to see a familiar kid stepping around the front of the multi-coloured muscle car onto the porch. The nerdy young man with thick-rimmed glasses looked about nineteen or twenty and was approaching the hunter with a wide, friendly grin. Sam wracked his brain to figure out who it was and was surprised when he finally recognized him as the kid who delivered the take-out food from the diner not far from Bobby's place in South Dakota.

"Uh, hi," he stammered, unable to remember the kid's name.

"Where's Dean?" the kid asked, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be running into the Winchesters in some Podunk town a full state away from home.

"He's just packing up," Sam answered hesitantly, tilting his thumb towards the motel room door behind the kid.

The kid's eyes lit up and he turned quickly towards the brothers' room. Sam reached out to intercept him, not sure that the kid would knock and not wanting Dean to get caught with his pants down or, more importantly, with his handguns out. He stopped, however, halfway through the motion when something else got his attention. Alex was stepping up onto the motel porch from the other side, walking slowly towards him.

"Alex," he stammered. "What are you doing here?" The kid got away from him and walked straight into the motel room in search of his idol, swinging the door most of the way closed behind him.

Alex smiled as she saw Sam's nervous glance in the direction of the room. "Don't worry," she assured him. "He's harmless."

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked again, forgetting in his surprise that the repeated question wasn't exactly the friendliest of greetings.

She didn't answer right away, frowning slightly as she leaned against the Impala's taillight next to the tall hunter. She folded her arms in front of her and gave him a wary look. "I need to talk to you and Dean," she admitted.

"About what?" Sam asked, getting uncomfortable with the way she seemed to be studying him. It was awkward enough that they had betrayed her trust, costing her over three months of inescapable torture, but then they had split without even saying good-bye when they had ditched her at Bobby's. Not exactly their proudest moment and, as Dean had grudgingly admitted a few days after leaving her there, one of their most cowardly. They had made a point of steering clear of Singer's Auto Salvage since then and had no real idea how she was feeling towards them at the moment.

On top of that, and much more worrying to Sam, he remembered that she could sense him when he used his powers and so could probably also sense him when he was running on a relatively high dosage of demon blood. He had slipped out in the middle of the night last night for a swig and was growing more and more fearful that she could tell.

She paused, giving him a long, hard stare and Sam's fears were realized when she eventually spoke. "Sam, am I sensing you?" she asked quietly. When he didn't answer but instead looked away with a heavy exhale of breath, her eyes widened. "What have you done?"

Sam pursed his lips. "Look," he said, turning back so his eyes fixed on hers, "I know what I'm doing. I can't explain right now but I need you to trust me." He probably had about thirty seconds before his brother was going to come outside and he needed to convince her to keep quiet fast. Right now, she didn't look even close to convinced. In fact, she almost looked scared.

"Do you hear me, Alex?" he demanded more harshly. "I swear, I know what I'm doing. This is just temporary. Please, you have to believe me. You can't tell Dean. He's messed up and he won't understand and he really can't take any extra worry right now."

"What is it you're doing?" she asked, her expression giving every indication that she wasn't seeing reason yet. "It doesn't feel right, Sam."

"It's temporary, I promise you. I can turn it off as soon as this is over. Look, Alex, we're losing the war. We're on like, seal fifty or something. At sixty-six, Lucifer rises. You, your brother, Dean, everyone's dead if that happens." Sam knew from experience using her brother would be an effective ploy. "I can handle this, I swear. You have to promise me you won't tell Dean. Please. I'll explain everything later, just…"

He stopped talking abruptly as the motel door swung back open and Dean emerged with a grin on his face, followed by the delivery boy sporting an even bigger grin.

"Nobody's gonna buy it if you use a fake ID with only one name on it, dude," Dean laughed, walking backwards as he addressed his young visitor. "And everyone has seen the movie. Everybody knows who McLovin is. I'll make you one with a believable name next time I'm at Bobby's, I swear. How about Kid Rock?" He turned back around, his eyes falling on his brother. "Hey look, Sam," he declared, jerking his thumb at the kid behind him. "It's Delivery Dave!"

His smile disappeared the instant Sam shifted his giant frame a step away from the car and he noticed the blonde perched on the black classic's taillight.

"Lex," he stammered, oblivious to McLovin bumping into him from behind when he stopped short.

"Hi Dean," she greeted him with an awkward, almost shy smile.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted, not realizing it was the same less-than-gracious question Sam had started out with. He couldn't help but notice she looked different from the last time he had seen her when he had driven her from Oceanview to South Dakota. She looked a lot more like her old self, at least on the surface. And at least she was talking this time.

"Uh, I needed a favour," she managed, sounding uncomfortable. She looked back at Sam, the bridge of her nose still wrinkled in discomfort. Dean sensed a bad vibe between the two and realized that definitely didn't bode well for a pleasant attitude towards him. If he could divert the anger she must be feeling towards him by agreeing to some favour, he wasn't about to say no.

"Sure," Dean answered to her request, far too quickly to not be influenced by guilt. "Of course. Anything." Sam noticed his brother hadn't stepped any closer to them and remained several feet away in a stiff, uncomfortable stance.

Sam knew the girl's frown was all about him and not Dean so he gave her a pointed but somewhat pleading look, hoping like Hell he'd managed to convince her to keep quiet. She had told him once months ago that she felt definite evil when he used his powers and had asked him not to do it anymore but she had also promised not to tell Dean and had so far kept her word. He could only hope she would continue to do so.

Alex glanced over at McLovin, who had planted himself next to the far taller, broader man he openly idolized and now stood there grinning around at all three of them. "McLovin, would you mind if I talked to Dean in private for a minute?" she asked politely.

McLovin looked mildly surprised and even a little hurt. Since she hadn't included him in her request, Sam decided to take the opportunity to distance himself from the blonde and her radar mojo. "Dude," he said to McLovin, stepping towards the kid, "lemme show you something inside for a sec." He ushered McLovin in the direction of the motel room door, ignoring the hazel dagger-eyes Dean was shooting at him for abandoning him. "Let's let these two talk," he added, giving Dean a '_for goodness sake, man-up_' look before turning to throw one last silent plea at Alex, puppy-dog eyes on at full capacity. He decided he shouldn't be too worried because he was fairly certain the pair would be so distracted by the obvious awkwardness between them they would keep the conversation as short as possible.

When the motel room door clicked closed behind them, however, Dean pulled his best game face on and moved forward, perching himself casually on the trunk rim of his baby next to Alex. "How've you been?" he managed, giving every impression of someone completely relaxed. "You look good."

She smiled back, a polite, close-lipped smile, but a sincere one. "Thanks, you too. I'm doing great. That's actually why I'm here."

Dean just raised an eyebrow, slowly releasing his relief at her friendly non-accusing tone so as not to make it obvious how nervous he had been in the first place.

"Josh gets out tomorrow," she informed him.

"That's good," the hunter acknowledged. "You on your way to pick him up?"

The blonde looked away for a second. "No," she admitted. "That's kinda the favour I came to ask you."

"You think your uncle will be looking for you at the jail?" Dean asked, realizing it was a legitimate fear but figuring surely there was an easier way to get a message to Josh about where the two could meet up than him and Sam driving three states south. Texas wasn't exactly on their way to Colorado from here.

"No," Alex explained. "I'm not going to meet him. I'm letting him go back to California." She could tell by the blank look on Dean's face that he didn't understand what she was getting at.

"My brother's served his time," she continued quietly. "When he gets out, he has no warrants, no outstanding charges, no need to run. I have no choice but to keep running, at least while Red-Eyes is still out there, but I'm not dragging Josh right back into this with me."

Dean's eyes widened slightly in realization and his brow creased in instant disapproval. "Tell me you're not gonna try ditching him, Lex."

She nodded firmly. "That's exactly what I'm doing. Bobby's agreed to let me stay at his place for a bit. I won't stay long, I figure I'll get a little house or something in town so that's only like twenty minutes away from his place. He said he'll help build me my own panic room wherever I end up so I'll be fine. I want Josh to go home to California."

"Bobby agreed to this?" Dean was skeptical.

Alex chuckled and shook her head. "Not exactly. He doesn't think it's fair to Josh. He doesn't know I'm here." She jerked her chin towards the closed door of the Winchesters' motel room. "Why do you think I brought the delivery guy?"

Dean wasn't laughing. He shook his head. "Unh-uh Lex. No way. It's a bad idea. Have you even stopped to think about Josh in all this?"

Alex's eyes narrowed at him and her shoulders stiffened. "I am thinking about Josh!" she defended. "That's all I'm thinking about. The minute he skips a meeting with his parole officer, he's a fugitive all over again. This is his only chance at a real life."

"No. Lex, he's not gonna want this. He's your big brother, trust me, I know. He won't want this."

"He'll be upset at first," she admitted, "but in the long run he'll be happier this way."

"I beg to differ." Dean wasn't backing down. He had been abandoned by both Sam and his dad and knew first hand there was no getting used to it, no lessening of the hurt and worry, no eventual happiness in the separation. He had seen the two Brentons together in Indiana last year and knew the devotion and love they both felt for the other. No good could come from this move.

Alex ignored his disapproving words. "I need you to meet him outside the jail, deliver his car to him, and give him this." She pulled an envelope out of her pocket and smoothened out the creases against her thigh before extending it out for the hunter to take.

Dean made no move to take the envelope. This girl needed her brother. She attracted way too much supernatural attention to go it solo and he wasn't in any position to look out for her. He couldn't ask it of Bobby forever and the thought of her alone literally made him nauseous. "No. I don't think this is the right thing for you to do," he said softly, determined yet to make her see reason.

Alex didn't give him the chance. Her eyes narrowed at him and she grabbed his hand, thrusting the envelope into it as she spoke. "Right thing for me?" she spat, surprising him with the vehemence of her words. "I've had enough of what you think is the right thing for me! Last time you decided to do what you thought was right for me, I got my ass tortured every day for months! Don't you think you should let _me_ decide what the right thing for me is?"

Dean was stunned into silent compliance by the accusation and the anger in her voice. This was the reaction he had been spared almost five weeks ago when he had broken her out of Oceanview and he wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not for her mental well-being that she was hurling the blame and resentment at him now. He knew he deserved every ounce of it though and wordlessly let her wrap his fingers around the envelope.

"This is my decision, not yours," she continued, her voice stern but still laced with a hint of desperation. "If you don't meet him, I'll just find someone else but I think we both know he's gonna need some convincing that I'm fine. He trusts you so I'd like you to do it," she looked him in the eye and held his gaze. "I think you owe me that much, don't you?"

Dean stood up abruptly. "Fine," was all he said, a sharp edge to his own voice. He was in no frame of mind to plead for forgiveness and Dean Winchester didn't stand around to get chewed out by a chick, even if she was completely justified. His emotional threshold was precariously low right now and this conversation had far too much potential for an overload.

"Do you promise?" she asked, her voice suddenly soft again and almost pleading. "Promise me you won't tell him where I am."

Dean slumped his shoulders a little and sighed. He didn't like what she was doing but he would do as she asked. And after his previous betrayal, if he gave her his word, he would die keeping it. "I promise," he said sincerely.

Alex nodded and moved away from him, clearly intending to keep this little reunion as short as possible. Sam must have been keeping a subtle eye out the window for he and McLovin came outside to join them on the porch a few seconds later. Alex motioned to the delivery kid to get in the beater parked next to the Impala. He looked disappointed to be leaving so quickly but nodded, turning to Dean.

"Bye Dean," he chirped good-naturedly, climbing in the passenger side. Dean gave him as friendly a wave as he could muster.

Alex handed Sam the Bronco's keys as she passed him. "Dean'll fill you in," she said before leaning in slightly to speak in his ear without being overheard. "I'll trust we have an understanding," she added in a whisper. With that she walked away, throwing them both a half-hearted smile and a quick wave as she started up Bobby's mixed-breed contraption with a strained rumble.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**Present...**_

Sam and Josh took turns getting a couple of hours shut-eye as Dean didn't stir until almost ten o'clock. As usual, the elder Winchester woke up hungry so the three headed straight out for breakfast, leaving Shelby in the motel room with a forlorn look on her furry face. Dean had not been pleased to find dog hair in the back of his baby and even the level-tempered Josh was getting frustrated at the bitching by the time the waiter brought their meals over.

No sooner had Dean shoveled the first forkful of home fries into his mouth than he heard Led Zeppelin's _Kashmir_ drifting through the air. He looked up sharply, realizing the classic rock tune was sailing out of Josh's pocket, not his.

"Dude, since when do you listen to Zeppelin? Thought Rastafarian Reggae was more your scene," he teased.

"Oh yeah," Josh jumped, reaching quickly for the phone. "It's yours," he admitted, handing it over to Dean.

Dean snatched it and opened it quickly, knowing right away who it was from the specialized ring tone. "Hey Bobby! Call to make sure I'm still breathin'?"

"_It's gettin' to be a habit_,_ son_" Bobby admonished, attempting to sound gruff but too relieved at the sound of Dean's voice alive and well to pull it off.

"Well, they say if old men don't get enough excitement in their lives, they go senile faster. Just lookin' out for ya."

"_I'll stuff you in a freezer myself if you ever call me old again, boy."_

"Yeah, yeah," Dean chuckled at Bobby's false threat, taking a huge bite out of his toasted fried egg and bacon sandwich. "Vhat's uph?" he asked with his mouth full.

"_Your brother filled me in on your latest brush with death and the general crappiness of the situation. So it would seem the seal's been broken_."

Dean slumped back in his seat, his food momentarily forgotten. "Yeah, sorry Bobby," he said with a sigh. "That's number sixty."

"_It ain't your fault, Dean. Way I see it, your little crew of four was the only thing standing in front of that seal. I didn't see a flock of angels watching your six. You ain't the only ones supposed to be fightin' this war."_

"Cas was there," Dean pointed out. "In fact, he saved our asses."

"_Last I heard, Heaven's Army had more than one grunt in a trench coat to spare."_

The hunter grinned at Bobby's always colourful description of angels, even the one on their side. "Yeah, well the job's not over yet," he informed the mechanic. "We figured we've gotta go after Netty next. If we take him out, at least he won't be able to pop demons out of Hell."

"_That's why I'm calling."_

"You got a lead?" Dean's face lit up. The three at the breakfast table had so far come up with a big fat nothing.

"_Of course_," the older hunter scoffed. "_Don't I always? It seems there may be a chance we can get some intel outta your surfing friend there."_

"Bhodi?" Dean glanced sharply over at Josh, raising an eyebrow as he did so and evoking a questioning look in return. "What do you mean?"

"_A shapeshifter's a supernatural being_," Bobby explained. "_There's a magic mojo in their ability and where's there's a mojo, there's always a way to tap into it."_

"In English, please," Dean rolled his eyes.

"_When the shapeshifter took…Bhodi's… form, there was a transference of life force and memories too, not just DNA. This allows the shifter to pass as whoever it's mimicking by knowing everything they know, accessing their memories_."

"Oh yeah, right," Dean said slowly, suddenly remembering some interesting facts about Josh that the shifter had shared before his demise. With an inward chuckle, he made up his mind to stick Surfer Boy with the breakfast tab.

"_Well, this transference could potentially have occurred both ways."_

"Meaning?"

"_Meaning a good enough psychic might be able to retrieve the shapeshifter's memories from your boy. It's a two-way street. The memories are there; he just doesn't have the ability as a human that the shifter did to access them."_

"Do we know a good enough psychic?" Dean asked hesitantly. "We kinda got the last one killed."

He could hear Bobby sigh through the phone. "_Pamela could have done it_," the mechanic admitted. "_I only know of one other that can get the job done but you're not gonna like it."_

"What else is new?" Dean retorted. "Who?"

"_Missouri Moseley. In Lawrence."_

Dean groaned. Bobby was right. He didn't like it. He didn't want to involve an innocent woman in this, he didn't want to expose her to this danger like they had Pamela, and he sure as Hell didn't want to go back to Lawrence, Kansas. "Don't we have any other options?" he asked in an almost pleading tone.

"_Sorry. You boys are running low on allies, especially in the psychic community. She's got the skills and she was a friend of your daddy's. She'll help."_

"Alright, I'll let you know how it goes," the younger hunter relented. "Thanks Bobby. Talk to you later."

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**June 2, 2009 (the day before Josh gets out of jail)...**_

Alex tried her best to tolerate McLovin's constant stream of chattered Dean-worship the entire trip back from Nebraska but genuinely thought she was going to go insane by the time they pulled back in to Singer's Auto Salvage. The kid was sweet and had done her a solid favour in accompanying her across two states with no questions asked, but she really didn't want to think about either Winchester right now, especially that one.

The meeting hadn't gone nearly as well as she had hoped. First of all there was Sam. She didn't know what he had been messing with but she had sensed him. Actually _sensed_ him! She remembered when he had taken down some demons a few months back with his power and shuddered. She had felt him then and he had _not_ felt good, not like Castiel did. This morning, she had sensed a milder version of the same thing. Whatever he was doing, it couldn't be good.

But instead of trying to convince him, instead of helping him, she had threatened him. She had used his worry about Dean discovering his secret to her advantage, playing on his fear to ensure he wouldn't tell Josh where she was. For the entire long drive home, she kept telling herself she was right to trust Sam's judgment but in all honesty she was worried about him and had a nagging feeling she should have pressed the issue. She wasn't proud of how she'd handled the situation at all.

Thanks to her temporary lack of ethics, however, she was a hundred percent confident that Sam would not tell Josh where she was. She had a feeling, knowing the Winchesters well enough, that he would instead try to convince Dean to rat her out. Luckily, she was even less worried about the elder hunter betraying her. Less worried but even guiltier about how she had achieved that comfort.

She didn't blame Dean for turning her in to Uncle Bryce. At least, not anymore. Not after seeing the videos and all the 'evidence' Bobby had shown her. It was clear Dean still felt bad about it though and when he had refused to go along with her plan she had panicked, knowing he was too stubborn to convince using logic. He lived and breathed the big brother thing and there was no way he was going to side with her on this one. So she had used the only other ploy she had - guilt. She knew making him promise out loud would assure he would see the job done but she had hated hearing the hurtful words coming out of her mouth.

She pulled up in front of the house next to McLovin's unreliable Chevette and noticed Bobby's truck was here. She groaned inwardly, realizing she was going to have to explain what she had just done to the caring but opinionated mechanic. She wasn't too worried about the repercussions of having stolen one of his cars but knew he was going to give her shit about ditching Josh. She had left a note saying she was going to meet her brother, hoping Bobby would believe it enough to not worry about her being gone all night or call ahead and warn the Winchesters. But Bobby didn't like being lied to and the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint the one man who, with the exception of her own brother, had done more for her in the past month than anyone ever had.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**Present...**_

Sam was verging on panic listening to Dean explain their next move. _Go see Missouri?_ _A psychic who could practically read minds?_ Really not high on his list of smart things to do right now. Luckily, Josh gave him an out.

"Kansas?" The blond man grimaced at the suggestion. "Do we have to go there? I mean, can't the psychic come here?"

"You got a problem with Kansas, Mr. 90210?" Dean feigned offense. After all, he was born a Kansas boy, even if he did avoid the state like the plague now.

"FYI, 90210 is Beverly Hills. I'm from Malibu, genius. And no, I have no problem with Kansas, it's just that I need to find Ivan. If I leave for a day and a half, his trail might go cold. He killed Colby and I promised Rufus I'd take him out."

Dean laughed a short laugh with no humour in it. "Now you're starting to sound like a real hunter." He shook his head. "Sorry but Missouri doesn't leave Lawrence. In fact, she barely leaves her house. And I think closing a gate to Hell comes before ganking a single vamp. We'll take Ivan down later, don't worry. He'll get what's coming to him."

"No, Dean he's right," Sam seized the opportunity. "Ivan's trail could go cold just like that if we drop it now."

"Bigger fish to fry, Sam," Dean said, surprised his brother wasn't jumping on the 'Apocalypse first' side of the argument. "I liked Colby too, man, but the Apocalypse had to trump personal revenge. Don't worry, the little Edward Cullen wannabe will still get his due."

"I'm not saying we don't go," Sam clarified, inwardly surprised that his brother even knew who Edward Cullen was. "But we don't need three of us to take a cross-country drive. Missouri doesn't know Josh so you should go with him but I'll stay here and see what leads I can get on Ivan."

"No way Sam," Dean answered instinctively. "Ivan's super strong, remember? You're not taking him on alone."

"Dean, he's super strong because he drank _my_ blood. He'd be dead already if he hadn't and he wouldn't have been able to.…"

"Colby dying wasn't your fault!" Dean cut him off. "Don't even go there."

"He's right, that wasn't your fault, bro," Josh chimed in, hoping his comments yesterday hadn't put that notion in the kid's head. "I never said that – or thought it."

"Look, I'm not gonna try take him on," Sam assured them. "But I need to at least make an effort to find him. I'll just stay in Denver and check around, see if I can dig up a lead, that's all." He took a mouthful of his French toast, avoiding eye contact with his brother.

"Alone?" Dean still didn't like it.

"I won't necessarily be alone," Sam pointed out, still focusing on his breakfast.

"Ruby." Dean spoke the word like he was spitting out a mouthful of snake venom.

Sam shrugged. "You wanted me to be honest."

Dean bit his lip and didn't argue. The conversation was kept light for the duration of the meal, Dean hardly saying two words until they were back outside the motel room getting into the cars. He was pulling open the Impala's driver's door when Sam called his name.

"What?" He questioned his brother, who just splayed his hands and jutted his chin towards the Bronco.

"Oh, Hell no!" Dean exclaimed, realizing what his brother was getting at. "My car goes where I go; you keep OJ's bullet-ridden cop-magnet."

"Hey!" Josh interjected. "My car goes where I go, so if you insist on coming, you're riding shotgun Buddy."

Sam hid his smile as his brother scowled and grudgingly sank into the passenger seat of the SUV, squirming away from Shelby's tongue which was flicking in his ear from the back seat. Josh just rolled his eyes and gave Sam a quick wave as he hopped in the driver's side and started her up.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap: Ok, Dean's had his one chapter of peace, but how could a trip to Missouri's possibly go wrong?_


	23. Martha Stewart's Guide to Grease Stains

**Chapter 23**** – Martha Stewart's Guide to Grease Stain Removal**

Missouri's house hadn't changed in the three years since Dean had been there. It was almost seven in the evening but apparently the psychic's hours ran late because she was with someone in the back room '_in session_'. Dean and Josh sprawled on the uncomfortable chairs in the empty waiting room, glad at least it seemed like they were the last visitors of the day.

They only had about five minutes to wait before the door to the back room sprang open and a wide-eyed man staggered out, giving them barely a glance as he headed for the main door. Dean chuckled as the guy passed by them, shaking his head in disapproval.

Josh, on the other hand, called out to the man. "Bro, you alright?"

The guy paused, turning around as he gripped the doorframe for support. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he said breathlessly, clearly shaken by whatever had gone on inside the room. "She was just reading my palm and then…then she grabbed her head and practically fell on the floor! It was…" the guy threw his hands in the air. "It was freaky! She didn't look like she was fakin' it, neither. Don't mess with this stuff man! It ain't natural." With that warning he practically ran down the walk to his car.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Freaking civilians."

Both men stood up quickly when Missouri appeared in the doorway. "Dean Winchester," she said in way of greeting, hands on her hips as she stared at him, her usual cross expression on her face.

"Well, don't just stand there gawkin', come on in," she continued before he could reply, turning and leading the way into her living room.

"Yes Ma'am," Dean mumbled, remembering that the motherly psychic had never seemed to like him much. He trailed in after her and took a seat on the couch. Josh followed suit.

"I thought I told you to keep in touch, boy," she chided as she sat down on the loveseat across from the hunters. "What's it been, three years?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry," was all Dean could come up with.

"Still no manners, I see. Are you ever gonna introduce me to your friend here?"

"Uh, Missouri, this is Josh Brenton. Josh, Missouri Moseley."

"Nice to meet you," Josh smiled, giving the elder lady a polite nod. "You have a lovely home, Ma'am."

Missouri smiled in approval. "How nice of you," she cooed, giving Josh an intense lingering look. "Oh my!" she exclaimed. "Why, you're even polite on the inside."

Dean held in a snort and concentrated on not thinking one either.

"I see you're worried about your sister," Missouri sympathized, still addressing Josh. "I'm sure she'll be alright, sweetie. Dean here may be a hothead, but he goes to great lengths to look out for the people he cares about. And I'm so sorry about your young friend. Now, would you like some pie?"

"I'd love some, thank-you," Josh said, throwing a smug glance in Dean's direction.

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief as Missouri got up and headed towards the kitchen. What did he do wrong this time? Why was Josh getting pie? He frowned at the blond man.

"Dude, you got a little something on your nose," he teased quietly, scraping the tip of his own nose with his finger in mockery.

Josh rolled his eyes at the brown-nosing insult. "What are you, twelve?" he grinned. "It's called common courtesy, you should try it some time," he defended. "You should always say something nice when you visit someone's home."

Dean snorted. "Freak," was all he managed for a comeback as their heavyset hostess chose that moment to return. To Dean's relief and delight, she held not one but two plates of apple pie, handing one to each man with a smile.

They both offered genuine thank-you's and dug in. Dean's partially frostbitten fingers were a little stiff around the fork but he managed. After all, it _was_ pie.

Missouri once again took a seat across from them, a pleased look on her face. "So you need to recover the memories of a shapeshifter?" she asked, matter of factly.

Josh was incredibly impressed with Missouri. She was by far the best psychic he'd ever met. Not that he'd met very many for he and Lex tended to avoid them for the most part due to a bad experience with one reading Lex's palm. As impressed as he was, however, it was very unnerving that she seemed to be able to read every thought he was having. He tried very hard, probably too hard, to _not_ think of women or sex or anything inappropriate. Naturally, all the effort to avoid it just kept bringing the recent memory of the veterinarian's curvy and very naked receptionist to the forefront. He could feel himself blushing but Missouri didn't seem to take any notice.

"Yeah," Dean answered her, clearly not nearly as bothered by the invasion of privacy as Josh was. "The shapeshifter was working with demons. They've reincarnated a nasty son of a bitch called Netiran and we need to find out where to find him or what his plans are so we can kill him. The shifter took a turn at trying to pull off the pretty boy surfer look," he jerked his thumb at the man next to him on the couch, "so Bobby Singer says you might be able to get the shifter's memories out of Josh here."

Missouri nodded. "Well, it ain't easy," she said, "and I've never done it before, but I think I can help you boys out."

The men finished their pie while she moved about her house gathering supplies for the process. Watching her light several candles on the coffee table, Dean wondered why rituals and spells always seemed to require candles. Seriously, wasn't it about time the supernatural upgraded to at least flashlights? Freakin' fire hazard. He crushed the thought quickly, half expecting a perturbed answer from their host who was no doubt snooping around in his head, but she seemed intent on what she was doing. In fact, she had barely spared him a glance since they sat down.

Missouri sat back down across from them and laid a small object wrapped in a silk handkerchief on the table in front of Josh. She explained the process to him as she unwrapped it very carefully.

"This is a Tarot Sphere, an Assyrian one, completely different from the traditional Tarot you may be used to. It's what's gonna channel the shapeshifter's latent memories from your subconscious to your conscious. You have to be touching it to pull the memories out. But before we start, I need you to give Dean all the weapons you're carrying."

"What? Why?" Josh asked, surprised at the request.

"Well, like I said, I haven't done this before, but the way I hear it, when the memories come, they can slam into you like a ton of bricks. They hit your brain like you're actually experiencing them from the shapeshifter's point of view, feeling what he's feeling. And they're very, very real. I'm figuring this Netiran thing was a nasty piece of work and I'd rather not get shot at by you all hopped up on evil-deed-doing in the heat of the moment."

Josh suddenly began to feel a lot more nervous about this 'process' as he pulled out his Desert Eagle and the silver knife he had on his person. He had been expecting more of a gypsy lady-type with eight zillion cheap gold bracelets chanting mumbo jumbo and poof! the memories would be there and he'd know where Netiran was and how to take him out.

Dean grinned as he took the high calibre gun from his friend and tucked it in the back of his jeans next to his own Colt. "This thing just keeps finding its way to me, dude," he snickered. "I think it's trying to tell you something."

Missouri clucked them into silence and placed Josh's fingers firmly on the sphere, a round orb about the size of an orange nestled on a small ringstand. It looked like it was made of cheap tin and had several dents around its surface, which was adorned with strange hieroglyphics and etched markings.

"I thought it was supposed to be a glass ball," Dean quipped, unable to stop himself in time. He glanced up quickly, waiting on the rebuke from Missouri but none came.

"No, I save the crystal one as part of the theatrics for the paying customers," she said with a saucy smile. "Now, are you boys ready?"

Both men nodded, Josh with his fingers resting on the tin ball and Dean at the end of the coffee table, leaning forward, tense and poised in case Josh went all Norman Bates on their helpful hostess. Missouri closed her eyes and started speaking slowly in a language even Dean didn't recognize. Dean felt rather than heard a strange hush fall over the room and he looked about nervously. Josh was looking back and forth between Missouri and the sphere expectantly, but otherwise seemed unaffected.

After a couple of minutes, the psychic stopped her foreign chanting and spoke to Josh in English. "Now concentrate on the moment you met the shapeshifter," she instructed him. "You'll only be able to get his memories up to that point of contact, nothing after that."

Josh's eyes suddenly widened and he jerked his fingers off the sphere. "Whoa," he said, looking up. "That's freaky. I remembered shaking my own hand on Ella's sister's porch," he said, sounding surprised. A grin quickly spread across his face. "Damn, I didn't realize what a handsome devil I am!"

Dean rolled his eyes as Josh responded to Missouri's unimpressed look by quickly putting his fingers back on the ball. "Sorry," he mumbled apologetically. "I got distracted. Keep going."

"It's all up to you now," she answered. "Try to concentrate on the demons and their plans and you might coax the right memories to come first. The shapeshifter could be a hundred years old and I really don't think you want a century of bad memories in your head."

Josh nodded and no more than a few seconds later, screwed his face up in a wince. "I killed Ella's sister," he announced, his eyes closed. "And I enjoyed it," he added quietly. A moment later, "Oh shit! I broke the security guard's neck and stuffed him in the freezer. Christ, his bones were cracking and I just kept shoving." He let out a malicious sounding chuckle at the supposedly gruesome memory. "Fuck, I shot a cop who pulled me over. I'm one sick bastard."

"The memories with the most effect on the shifter are the most prominent ones. He obviously enjoys violence and the rush of killing makes those memories stand out," Missouri explained. "Try to think of something connected to Netiran," she encouraged. "Steer your thoughts."

"Think of that mattress factory the demons were hanging out at," Dean suggested, unnerved by the fact that Josh was referring to the shapeshifter in the first person, essentially _becoming_ him while the memories were playing in his head.

Josh nodded, a look of intense concentration adorning his face. "Yep, I've been there," he said after a moment of silence. "Wow," he said, surprise in his voice. "My wife is totally hot today. Oh! That's kinky." He opened his eyes and grinned widely at both Dean and Missouri. "I am so gonna try that next time I get lai..."

Dean cleared his throat with an uncomfortable glance at Missouri. "Dude, demons."

"Yeah yeah, sorry," Josh defended, closing his eyes again. "I can't help what's popping in there. This guy was seriously…Oh my God! NO!"

He jerked his hands off the sphere, shoving himself back onto the couch with a look of horror and disgust on his face. The tin ball was sent rolling off the table towards Dean, who reached out to stop it.

"NO!" cried Missouri, stretching her hand out towards the hunter. "Don't touch it!"

But the warning came too late. The ball rolled off the edge and dropped softly into Dean's open palm just as he was glancing up questioningly at the psychic. The inquiring look, however, was wiped off his face half an instant later. His fingers curled around the ball, squeezing it tightly as his eyes flew open with a look of sheer terror.

He jumped up onto his feet, staring wildly into the empty space in front of him, and screamed a deep, guttural, agonized scream. Josh was snapped out of the horrifying memory he had been reliving of the shifter as a bricklayer in Chicago, drowning a little kid for nothing but the crime of being mouthy. At the sound of Dean's panicked cry, he pushed away his utter revulsion and the shifter's feeling of intense satisfaction with the cruel act and opened his eyes.

Dean was standing up, his entire body tense and his fists clenched, one around the tin ball. Josh pushed himself up to his feet quickly and grabbed Dean's shoulder to spin the hunter around to face him in an attempt to figure out what was going on.

Dean screamed out again at the contact, his voice harsh and raspy as his eyes fought unsuccessfully to focus on Josh. "No no no no, please NO!" he pleaded suddenly, trying to back away from the blond man but coming up against the sofa with his calves. "Stop! Just STOP!" He screamed out again, his face twisted in a look of intense pain and he jerked away, falling backwards onto the couch.

"What's wrong?" Josh asked, letting go of Dean's sleeve as the hunter dropped downwards. Dean was staring up at the empty air next to Josh's head, seemingly oblivious to the blond man's presence.

"Arg-guh!" he cried out, his head tipping backwards as if he was again experiencing excruciating pain. "Please stop! Stop!" he pleaded again, his back arching upwards from his almost prone position on the couch. "Aaarhhhgh!"

"Stop what?" Bewildered, Josh reached forward to place a hand on Dean's shoulder, trying to figure out exactly what was going on and calm him down. "Bro, whatever it is, it's not your memory," he told him. "It's the shifter's."

Clearly Dean wasn't convinced. Josh wasn't sure the hunter was aware he was even there. When his hand touched Dean's shoulder, the hunter screamed out in obvious agony and thrashed about wildly. Josh expected him to lash out at him but strangely enough, Dean kept his arms down at his sides as if held there with invisible bonds, his fists clenched and his back arched.

"Get the sphere!" Missouri yelled suddenly from behind Josh. "Get it away from him!"

Josh reacted swiftly and reached for Dean's right hand, chiding himself for not thinking to do this right away. He was attempting to pry Dean's fingers from their death grip on the tin ball when the hunter once again started thrashing violently and screaming, not letting go but instead curling in on himself and rolling to the floor.

"Please stop!" he rasped as Josh again reached down for the hand still squeezing the spherical source of Dean's pain. "Please Sammy. Please." Dean was practically convulsing with a mixture of sobs and cries of agony. "Sammy, please..."

Josh's heart wrenched for his friend when he seized Dean's wrist and caught sight of his face. The normally emotionally guarded hunter was crying openly, violent sobs wracking his body as he repeated the word '_no_' in rapid succession, his mantra interrupted every so often with a _'I can't…I just can't...'_. Just as Josh pried the suffering man's fingers away enough to release the sphere, Dean mumbled "_No more... Sammy, please. No more." _Then his voice dropped to nothing more than a whisper.

_"You win. Alistair, you win._" He curled back in on himself.

Josh stood up, raising the sphere above his shoulders in subconscious effort to get it as far away from Dean as he could. He took a step back, twisting to toss the orb onto the plush cushion on the armchair on the far side of the living room. He looked back down to see Dean still panting on the floor at his feet, his eyes vacant and defeated.

Normally, Josh's first instinct when seeing someone in pain was to comfort but this time he froze, unable to think of any words that would help the hunter with whatever memory he had just relived. His mind still reeling, he missed that fact that Sam had been involved in this particular shifter memory and he guiltily felt an instant of relief that it had chosen Dean to flow into and not him. The normally stoic hunter was a complete mess. Josh had witnessed his sister break down a couple of times in their lives but never anything like this. Dean's eyes were just…void. Completely broken.

Dean was now whimpering on the floor and although Josh felt a renewed urge to help him, he still hesitated, unsure what to do or say. To his relief, Missouri wasn't being a dimwitted gawker like he was and she suddenly appeared next to him, kneeling down at Dean's side. She wrapped her arms around him as best as she could as the hunter curled away from her, his face buried in his own hands as he sobbed.

After a long minute, the psychic turned to look up at Josh. "Why don't you go into the kitchen and make us some tea?" she suggested in a tone that made it clear it was more than a suggestion.

Josh gathered his wits and nodded. "I should take his weapons," he stammered, reaching down to lift the back of Dean's shirt. "Just in case."

"No need." Missouri waved him away. "It wasn't a shapeshifter's memory." She gently rocked the shuddering Winchester in her arms. "It was his."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**Two days earlier...**_

"Mornin' kiddo," Bobby greeted Lex as she shuffled her way to the kitchen at six thirty on Sunday morning.

She squinted groggily at the way-too-chipper mechanic, who was sitting at his desk with a pile of his library books around him.

"What are you doing up so early?" she questioned him. They had both been up half the night researching Scandinavian Dagga Weed and Crybroggia for some important Apocalypse-related hunt Sam and Dean were currently on in Denver. Alex had been astounded at the number of people on Bobby's 'hunter rolodex'. He must have been on the phone for three hours straight having the same five-minute conversation with every hunter he called.

"Couldn't sleep. Somethin' from one of them books we were readin' last night was naggin' at me so I got back up to suss it out. Wanna know what I found?"

Bobby's unusual perkiness got Alex's attention and she found herself smiling as she perched herself on the only bare corner of the small desk, leaning over to peek at what he was reading. "Lemme guess, Martha Stewart's guide to grease stain removal."

If he hadn't been wearing the worn trucker's cap, she might have seen the friendly scowl he threw her way. "You tryin' to tell me something?" he challenged.

"Not at all," she teased, flicking the collar of his very grease-stained vest.

"You gonna rag me on my laundry skills all day or you wanna hear how we're gonna take out Red-Eyes?"

Alex's smile vanished and her eyes widened. "You know how to kill him?"

"Yep." Bobby picked up the giant book on the floor by his chair, flipping it open to the page he'd marked and planting it on top of all the other books on the desk, spinning it around to face the blonde girl.

"This is the Key of Solomon," he explained. "It's a medieval book written by King Solomon himself on how to summon and master spiritual powers."

"King Solomon, he's the one who built the First Temple of Jerusalem, right? The temple that supposedly had the Ark of the Covenant in it?"

"That's right, his Daddy was David, the ballzy son of a gun who took down Goliath." He pointed to a drawing on the left-hand page of a series of circles with symbols interspersed throughout. "This is a Divajhian trap, invented by Solomon's ancestors," Bobby informed her. "We're pretty certain Red-Eyes is the bastard Hellspawn of a Cimmerian demi-goddess and a raiding Cucui, right? Well this thing was derived by Solomon in order to trap and hold Greek demi-gods. See, Solomon was king of Israel and Cimmeria was somewhere in Ancient Greece and they weren't exactly the friendliest of neighbors. I think we can be pretty sure Red-Eyes's mother was a Greek demi-goddess so this should hold that part of him."

Alex listened intently, a mixture of worry and concentration on her face. "That takes care of his X chromosome," she pointed out, "But what about the Y? He's also half-Cucui. I've tried things that work on demi-gods before, like wooden stakes, and they don't work on him. Remember we figured that was because the Cucui goblin part of him that's immune to wooden stakes kicks in. We need something that can hold BOTH parts of him."

Bobby nodded in agreement, flipping a dozen pages farther in the large book. "That's where this comes in," he grinned, jabbing his finger down on the page. "This is a Cucui trap. Granted, it needs a few tricky ingredients and it's damn fussy about the place and the time, but if we combine the two of them…"

Alex frowned, studying the page. "This says it's a trap for something called Boggarts," she said, trying to keep the skepticism from her voice. "Sounds a little Harry-Potterish."

"That's why I never picked up on it when I went through this book a couple of days ago," he admitted, ignoring the Harry Potter reference since he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. "But then when I was looking through that witch's journal of mine last night, it mentioned that Boggart was the English name given to the Cucui in the sixteenth century. Triggered a switch," he grinned, tapping his temple.

"Yeah yeah, I get it. You're the Guru," she laughed. "So if I use both of these at once, I can trap him," she continued. "But how do I kill him?"

Bobby groaned inwardly at her use of the pronoun 'I'.

"Well," he said slowly, "we're gonna need some help with that. I'm thinking if the boys manage to stop the Netiran ritual this morning then maybe we can get them over here to pitch in."

The blonde frowned, shaking her head. "I already said nobody's gonna be there but me when it goes down. Red's got a temper. I'm not chancing anyone else getting hurt, Bobby. That includes you. Besides, what do you need them for?"

"That brings me to the killing part. There's a way to strip a Cucui of its regenerative powers. We do that and the wooden stake will work on the demi-God half of this sucker. One good jab and he'll go down."

Alex nodded. "Okay, sounds promising, but I can stab him myself. I've done it before. You steer clear, just in case it doesn't work."

Bobby sighed in frustration. "It takes three people to do all this, Lex. We have to trap him in two traps at the same time, then stop his Cucui half from healing him as soon as we stab him, then kill him. Once he shows up, one person needs to be on the roof to finish closing the Cucui trap over him. It has to be done from above. It don't hold them for long though, so a second person's gonna hafta perform the ritual inside the church that will strip the healing powers that are making it immune and a third person's gonna hafta go in for the final kill with the wooden stake."

"No. No way."

"You can't do it by yourself, Lex. No matter how tough think you are, it's at least a three-man job."

"Then we find some other way," she shrugged, not about to budge on this one.

"There may not be another way."

"Then we leave Red-Eyes alone."

The older hunter was about to argue further but decided against it. He'd already realized this was one thing the girl wasn't going to give in on. He'd have to either figure out how she could take Red-Eyes out by herself or find a more devious way around her objection. He was leaning towards the latter option at this point.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Missouri and Dean were alone in the living room for no more than half a minute before Castiel showed up. The psychic was on her knees cradling the hunter in her lap, his face buried in her arm. She startled when the man in the trench coat suddenly appeared next to the armchair but recovered quickly, pulling Dean even closer.

"Dean." Cas addressed the hunter from where he stood. When he got no response, he looked to Missouri. "What happened? Is he alright?"

"He will be," Missouri fired back with her usual sass. "No thanks to you."

"I am Castiel," the angel deadpanned, as if that would explain his Star Trek entrance and automatically exonerate him of any guilt in Dean's situation.

"I know who you are and what you are," the psychic huffed, not appearing particularly impressed that an Angel of the Lord was in her living room.

The wrinkle on the bridge of Cas's nose deepened in obvious disapproval of the woman's disrespectful tone. He could tell she was a psychic of some ability and that she could sense his Heavenly energy, much like the girl a few months ago, Alexis Brenton, had been able to do. This woman, however, was unable to perceive his true form and saw only his vessel, Jimmy Novak standing before her.

"He thinks a lot of you, you know," she accused out of the blue as she continued to glare up at him. "Maybe more than he should."

"I am the one who raised him from Hell," the angel defended, his irritation starting to show through in the stern edge to his voice.

"Well, would it have been too much to ask to wipe his memory when you did?"

Cas averted his eyes briefly. "I could not," he replied more softly. "It was felt he needed to know what was at stake." He threw an apologetic look in Dean's direction, making it clear he believed it had been an unnecessarily cruel order. The hunter had his back to Castiel and had yet to even acknowledge his arrival.

"Well can you at least make him forget this one?" the psychic persisted. "He don't need this one."

The angel reached out subtly with his mind to touch Dean's thoughts but pulled back sharply when he found what he was looking for. He knew which memory the woman was referring to. He had hoped Dean would never retrieve that particular one, unsure of what it would mean for the already shaky relationship between the brothers and for Dean's potentially unstable psyche. "No. I am sorry," he said with genuine regret.

The psychic snorted from her position on the floor. "Some help you are."

Cas knew Dean was aware of the conversation going on but for some reason wasn't reacting to the angel's presence. He remained still with his head buried in the arm of the woman. The angel had believed he was beginning to understand the complexities of his charge's behavior, but this was an entirely unexpected reaction. He was reminded of the day in the hospital after Alistair had escaped and attacked the hunter. Over the past nine months, he had come to admire and believe in Dean's seemingly interminable inner strength but was suddenly struck with an acute awareness of the man's vulnerability and human frailty also.

"Is it too much to ask then that you give him a good night's sleep?" the psychic barked at him, glancing down at the hunter she still held protectively. "I think it's the least you could do, don't you?"

Cas sighed but slowly leaned down and touched Dean's temple. The hunter's tense body instantly relaxed, his form going limp and his breathing becoming slow and even.

The angel disappeared.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Josh leaned on the counter next to the stove, waiting for the kettle to boil. His heart was still pounding with alarm at the extent of the trauma his friend had suffered. When Colby had first informed him of Dean's recent trip downstairs, it had made sense that even with his wildest imagination, he could probably never begin to comprehend just how bad the experience had been. He now realized just how much of an understatement that was.

_Goddamnit, Sam should be here. _Dean needed his brother right now_. _This was so out of Josh's league_._ The elder Winchester was the toughest guy he'd ever met but for a guy that tough to be so fucked up…

For the second time since Colby had filled him in on the looming Apocalypse, Josh felt serious doubt that they would win, the first time being after hearing that his young friend was dead. After all, if the angels were recruiting Dean, putting their faith in him… well, maybe the hunter just wasn't up for the job after all. Nobody would be. How did angels expect anyone to go through that and then simply bounce back to save the planet?

Missouri swung the kitchen door open, giving Josh a tired smile as she planted herself on one of the stools lining her counter.

"Is he okay?" Josh asked quickly.

"He will be," she sighed. "He's sleeping now."

"Sam should be here," the blond man voiced his previous thought. "Should I call him?"

Missouri shook her head. "Maybe it's better he's not here for this one. Besides, no need to worry the boy; Dean'll be out 'till morning."

"Did you give him something?"

"No, he had a little help from his angel friend." Missouri didn't look overly impressed.

"What?" Josh pushed himself off the counter and took a quick step towards the living room door. "Cas is here?"

"Settle down, son," the psychic laughed. "He's gone. I think he just stopped by to check on Dean."

Josh didn't hide the disappointment from his face. He _really_ wanted to meet an angel. Despite the Winchesters' constant warnings and his own growing doubts about their motives, his sister's description of Cas had him very intrigued. He'd never been an overly religious man but had always felt there was something greater than humanity out there, trying its (or their) hardest to look out for the good people. As far as he was concerned, the existence of angels pretty much proved he had been right.

He settled back against the counter and returned his attention to Missouri. "When you said Dean was reliving one of his own memories," he asked quietly, "was that Hell?"

The psychic nodded. "I should have known better," she clucked. "I should have known he was drawn into the spell too, but I was trying so hard to block his thoughts out." She sighed. "I got a headfull from him when you two first came into the house," she explained.

"With your palm-reading client!" Josh exclaimed, remembering the man who left shortly after the hunters arrived. "He said you almost collapsed."

"The amount of pain that boy's gone through…"

"Four months of what we just saw?" Josh winced.

Their host shook her head. "I'm afraid time works differently in Hell," she explained. "Four months up here was like forty years down there."

Josh's heart skipped a beat as the impact of her words hit him.

_Forty years! How could anyone still be even remotely sane after that?_

He was floored. He couldn't find words to express a reaction to her revelation so he just remained silent, dumbstruck.

"That boy's thoughts and memories are…" Missouri continued, her voice laden with sympathy for Dean. "I just don't know where he finds the strength to keep going."

Josh had an idea what kept Dean going. "He was talking to Sam," he said. "As if the kid was there too."

She nodded. "It was _Dean's_ Hell, after all. What you just witnessed in there was the breaking of a man's soul. After all, there's only so much any person can take. Dean's had far more than his share, believe me."

"He gonna be okay?" Josh asked for the second time, this time looking for a more long term prognosis.

"He's strong; resilient," came the shrugged reply.

"That's an understatement." Josh struggled to pull his usual optimistic attitude back on and managed a half-hearted grin. "He's the toughest son of a bitch I've ever met...oh…I mean, uhh, fellow, he's the toughest fellow I've ever met."

"No," Missouri laughed pleasantly, getting up and coming around the counter as the kettle was starting to whistle. "He's a son of a bitch. Now, let's finish what we started, shall we?" She switched back into business mode. "We still need to get Netiran's whereabouts out of that brain of yours."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Poor Dean just can't seem to catch a break, huh. Next chap: What has Sam been up to while Dean and Josh were at Missouri's? Did Missouri get the information they needed from the shapeshifter's memories? _


	24. Where's Ivan?

**Chapter 24**** – Where's Ivan?**

Dean woke up slowly, feeling well-rested like he'd slept for a week. Or at least what he thought well-rested felt like; it had been so long since he'd actually experienced it he couldn't be sure. He was on an unfamiliar couch with a soft, warm blanket draped over him. His hand slid under the plush lavender-smelling pillow cradling his head and his senses snapped fully alert when he found no knife or gun there. His head jerked up and he looked around the room wildly until recognition hit him.

Missouri's. He was at Missouri's. His next thought was interrupted by a giant tongue leaving a trail of slober across his cheek. "Argg!" he protested noisily, throwing his arm up for protection and thinking it might be a good thing the knife hadn't been there after all. "Shelby!" See, this was why he didn't like dogs.

"Hey, Rip Van Winkle," he heard a teasing voice calling over to him from the kitchen doorway. "So you decided to join us this century after all. You know, not even sixteen hours of beauty sleep's gonna help you with that ugly mug, bro. There's just no fixing that."

"Hmph," Dean grunted, pushing himself up into a sitting position and swinging his feet around onto the floor. He squinted through the bright sunlight flooding the room at Josh, who was standing grinning at him with a glass of orange juice and a plate in his hand.

"Dude, is that pie?" he asked groggily.

Josh let out a groan. "Yeah. It _was_ my piece but I suppose since it's my third, you can have it." He walked over and held the plate and the glass out to the hunter.

Fragmented and jumpy bits of memory of what had occurred last night were making their way back to Dean's consciousness, none of them pleasant. He'd been back there, back downstairs, back in the pit, back on the rack... _b__ack in Hell_. At least, it felt like he had been. Not that the memories had ever faded, but they seemed cruelly fresh this morning. The pain, the blood, the stench of burning flesh, the screams, _his_ screams, Sammy laughing…

He flinched at the last thought, an unfamiliar memory, and his fingers fumbled, sending the glass of orange juice Josh was handing him tumbling to the floor.

"Oh, shit, sorry man," Josh quickly took the blame. "I thought you had it. I'll go get a cloth. Missouri'll be coming back downstairs any minute now and I've figured out you really don't want to be on her bad side."

Dean tried to cover his edginess by getting to his feet and pulling the blanket away from the spreading pool of orange juice on the hardwood. "She'll still know it spilled, dude," he pointed out. "Psychic."

Josh was only gone a few seconds but Dean used it to take a few deep breaths to pull himself together, quickly reconstructing his outer facade. He distinctly remembered screaming last night, and falling down, and possibly even crying. Had Josh seen that? God, he hoped not. He had a vague recollection of arms around him; warm, caring, motherly arms hugging him and the terrifying notion that he had let them. At least he was fairly certain _that_ had been Missouri and not Josh. Oh, crap - had Cas been there, too?

_Jesus, this was humiliating. _

"So dude, we got a couple of leads on Netty," Josh said as he came back into the room, wiping the floor while Dean folded the blanket into a neat pile on the couch and dug into the pie.

"Really? Whatcha find out?" Dean's interest in this was genuine. However fucked up he felt, there was still an Apocalypse to stop.

"Turns out Netty didn't pop into the world as juiced up as we thought," Josh explained. "Sam said he managed to send your angel to Hell but it seems that's about all he should be able to do."

"Cas is in Hell?" Dean's voice broke in his near panic. "But Sam said he was talking to..."

"No, honey, he's back now," Missouri answered, entering the room with a wet cloth in her hand and shoo-ing Josh out of the way of the orange juice spill he was trying to clean up. "You have to use a damp cloth," she chided, taking over and clucking her disapproval at the blond man's less than par cleaning skills. "A dry one'll leave the floor all sticky." She turned back to Dean. "He stopped by last night to check on you. He's fine."

A thought occurred to Dean. "Can you read his mind too? Do you know what they've got in store for me?"

The psychic shook her head. "Readin' the mind of an angel's a little out of my league," she laughed.

Dean was disappointed. It wasn't that he didn't believe Cas when the angel claimed to have no idea what Heaven's master plan was, but still had a distinct lack of trust for anything celestial. "Okay, so do we know where to find Netty?"

Josh nodded. "We know roughly where he is right now," he informed the hunter.

"He needs to feed," Missouri chimed in. "Build up his energy so he can import _from_ Hell instead of just export _to_ Hell."

"The original plan as far as the shapeshifter knew was for Netty to lay low for a few days in Denver, feeding and building up his strength until he was strong enough to go meet up with Lillith," said Josh.

"Why stay in Denver and what exactly does he 'feed' on?" Dean wasn't sure he wanted the answer to the second part of his question.

"The shapeshifter thinks he feeds on human blood, more for pleasure than any physical need though. Of course, he can get that anywhere, but he's supposedly staying in Denver because it takes about three days for him to fully recuperate all his powers from the resurrection and he has to stay in close proximity to the sacrifice that was made for him to do it."

Dean's eyes widened. "So he'll be close to the school where the ritual went down? Shouldn't be too hard to find him then."

"A demon of his power," Missouri shrugged, "a simple scry oughta find him now you know where to look."

"Three days?" Dean scrunched up his face in concentration.

"Yeah, that leaves us less than eighteen hours," Josh acknowledged, seeing the hunter doing the mental math. "And we've still got a seven hour drive."

"And Sam's still in Denver with that sonofabitch," Dean added, shoving the last bite of pie in his mouth. "We need to go. Now."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam swung his legs off the side of the bed, grabbing for his boxers. He heard Ruby roll towards him with a lazy moan but didn't turn around to face the naked demon in his bed.

"Mmmmm, don't get up yet," she purred. "We haven't had a whole night since your brother got back. It's like old times."

"'We still have work to do, remember?" he replied curtly, pulling his jeans on. "We've got a vampire to find."

Ruby frowned but tossed back the covers, pulling her naked form up and arching her back in a ridiculously sexy pretense of an early morning stretch. Sam bit his lip and tried his hardest to ignore it, turning back away and making a grab for his shirt that was still hanging lopsided from the top of the motel bedside lamp where it had been tossed in the needy and hasty act of undressing late last night.

He heard her cluck her disappointment but she slid off the bed and started collecting her own pieces of clothing from their various landing spots around the room.

Sam walked briskly to the bathroom and closed the door behind him with an unnecessarily loud thud. He leaned on the sink with his head bowed for a moment, trying to think what his next move should be in the search for Ivan and ignoring the guilt that was nagging at his peripheral. Not guilt over sleeping with Ruby, that was none of his self-righteous brother's business, but guilt about not being there for Dean last night when he had surely needed him.

Josh had called around midnight, explaining that they had a lead on Netiran and letting him know what had happened with Dean during the first attempt at the ritual. Sam had the feeling Josh was holding back on him on both counts, but didn't bother pressing the issue. Josh insisted Dean was sleeping it off and that Cas had even shown up to check on him. It was clear their friend wasn't going to divulge Netiran's whereabouts until he and Dean were back in town, not trusting Sam not to go after him on his own. As frustrating as it was, Sam couldn't blame Josh because he was in fact, entirely correct. As for Dean's supposed breakdown, Sam could tell it had been bad but hoped it was just another version of his brother's frequent nightmares. To an outsider like Josh who had never witnessed one of Dean's Hell nightmares, it would probably have been pretty freaky.

He splashed some water on his face and cleaned his teeth. He wasn't surprised to find Ruby dressed and ready to go by the time he exited the bathroom. She handed him a flask and he took it wordlessly, not needing to clarify what was in it.

They had asked around in some of the rougher bars last night and had found a few places that could potentially be the temporary hideout for the remnants of Ivan's pack. They had all been empty at the late hour last night, not surprising since vamps like to stay out to party and hunt all night, but Sam was hoping to find them all sleeping off their blood-induced hangovers this morning.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Missouri accompanied them out to the Bronco, which was parked out on the street in front of her house. She turned to Josh first as he dug out his keys and let Shelby into the backseat.

"Now you bring your sister around someday, ye hear," she told him as she handed him the lunch she had packed them for the drive. "I'd like to meet her. She and I have something in common. I have a knack for sensing energies too."

"Yeah, well," Josh shot Dean a not-so-friendly look, the mention of his sister and almost wiping away his resolution to take it easy on the hunter today. "I will if I ever get to see her again."

Missouri smiled. "Oh, honey, you two are far too close for her to stay away long, don't you worry. And don't you look at Dean that way, he's just keeping his word."

Dean suddenly felt uncomfortable having Missouri defend him. He didn't need pity. He didn't want pity. He'd rather have the psychic scolding him like she always did.

"You have a good energy about you," Missouri smiled, tapping her hand fondly on Josh's arm. "You take care now."

Josh nodded and Missouri turned to Dean. "It had better not be another three years 'fore I hear from you again, Dean Winchester," she warned, pulling the hunter in for a quick and unexpected hug. Dean awkwardly hugged her back, stepping away as soon as she released him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, groaning inwardly at having to endure one of his top ten least favourite things…mushy goodbyes. He gave her a nod and genuine smile and as she turned away to head up her walkway, he spun to face Josh. "Dude, I'm driving."

"No freaking way!"

"You drove all the way down here," Dean argued.

"Yeah, in _my_ car!"

"Paper, rock, scissors."

"Fine," Josh agreed, stepping up to Dean and pumping his arm in unison with the hunter, spreading his palm out as 'paper' on the third pump.

"I win!" Dean looked more astonished than pleased. "I win! Scissors! Yes!" He fist-pumped the air before snatching the Bronco's keys out of Josh's hands and practically diving for the driver's door, grinning like a ten year old kid. "I won!"

"Well no way driver's picking the music!" Josh sulked, climbing in the passenger side. "I'm not listening to Metallica the whole way back."

Dean was a little apprehensive about what could be a tortuous seven hour drive back to Denver with emo-Boy Bhodi. He really didn't want to be deflecting a million awkward, chick-flicky questions about Hell and what had happened last night. Thankfully, the blond man kept the chatter casual and light with no attempts at trying to get Dean to express any 'feelings' or crap like that and within half an hour, the hunter found himself relaxed and appreciating the sunny day and the friendly banter. Sam was such a grump lately it was actually refreshing to be enjoying a long drive again for a change, even if it wasn't in his own wheels.

He flicked through the radio channels, ignoring Josh's repeated bitching about some douche stealing his iPod jack when the Bronco had been left parked outside the restaurant. He stopped on Black Sabbath's _Children of the Grave_ and sat back with a pleased cackle.

"No way!" Josh protested, slapping at the tuner button to stop what he considered offensive racket. "That's not even singing, it's just noise."

"You put Bob Marley on and you'll be hitchhiking," Dean warned.

"I wish. It's not like he gets a lot of radioplay in freaking Kansas," Josh griped. He clicked to a station playing Nirvana's _Smells Like Teen Spirit_. "Happy medium?" he suggested.

"Nirvana! No Way! That's sacrilege! Nirvana almost single-handedly killed quality rock!"

Josh shook his head in complete confusion. "Say what? How so?"

"Grunge. They were the beginning of the end, trust me."

He got an eye roll as a response. "By the way, bro, rock isn't dead," Josh informed the driver. "It's making a comeback only it's now called classic rock. So you see, you're _almost_ cool again."

"Shut up," Dean retorted, reaching to change the dial once more. Triumph's _Magic Power_ sailed out of the Bronco's top of the line speakers and Josh yelled at him to stop there.

"I like this song," the blond man admitted, a nostalgic smile on his face. He began to sing along quietly. "_I got the magic power of the music in me…"_

Dean snorted. "You like it because it's your sister's favourite song."

"She plays it so much it grew on me," Josh admitted with a shrug. "And it's not her actual favourite."

"Well, _Snow_ and _Scar Tissue_ are by the lame-ass Chili Peppers so they don't count," Dean laughed. "So it's her favourite _real_ song."

He glanced over to see Josh staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.

"What?" he challenged.

"Nothing," Josh grinned. "I didn't say anything. You just answered a question that I hadn't quite gotten around to asking yet, that's all."

_No way a dude, especially a dude like Dean, remembers a chick's top three songs unless he genuinely cares for her._ Romeo here felt the same way about Lex as she did about him. Josh was surprised that his little discovery didn't bother him at all. In fact, he was pleased.

Dean growled his displeasure at being analyzed. He also cursed himself for letting it slip that he remembered Lex's three most favourite songs. He wasn't about to admit to her brother that he remembered pretty much everything about those few days she'd spent with him and Sam back in January. Her laugh, her smile, her walk, the way she twisted her finger in the ends of her hair when she was reading, her crazy-ass driving. He was a hunter, for fuck's sake. It was his job to be observant. Besides, nothing could come of it after what he had done to her so why bother discussing it? He reached for the stereo again.

"You're ten shades of freak, you know that?" he scoffed as he cranked the radio louder in an effort to put an end to that particular conversation.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam pressed himself against the rotten timber wall of the abandoned stables, flattening his torso as much as his impressive physique would let him, and peered sideways into the main barn area. His hand splayed out silently behind him and he twitched his nose in annoyance when Ruby ran into it before stopping. Dean would have instinctively understood the gesture and taken the covert stance behind him. Unfortunately, Dean wasn't here and Ruby was all he had.

He strengthened his grip on the machete in his other hand. He could hear a loud snoring and could see a leather-clad man sleeping in the pile of moldy hay nearest the entrance. He turned back to the demon behind him. "We go in swinging," he whispered. "Remember, if Ivan's not there, we need one of them alive to question and Ruby...if they have any human prisoners, you do NOT kill them."

Ruby looked offended. "I know!" she scowled, readying her own machete.

Sam ignored the miffed reaction to his apparent insult and stepped out into the room. His life's training as a hunter allowed him to assess the situation in a heartbeat. There were five vamps in the room; the one sleeping on the pile of hay, another man lying on the floor face up on his back using a dead and bloody corpse as a pillow, a female curled up on a pile of blankets in the far corner, and a couple making out near the back, their chins still covered with the blood from their last meal. No Ivan.

Being the only two awake and therefore the biggest threat, Sam went for the couple first. He charged across the dimly lit barn with the machete held high, bringing it down swiftly and brutally across the male vamp's neck. The female started screaming at the sight of the head she had just been kissing rolling away. Ignoring the noise and the spurt of blood that reached as high as his chest, he quickly took a second swing at the female, silencing the screaming instantaneously.

He spun around to see Ruby removing the head of the one who had been sleeping on his food. She moved for the female next. Sam lunged past her to block a swing of a baseball bat aimed at the brunette's head from the vampire who had been sleeping by the door. The bat knocked the overextended machete out of his hands, throwing him off balance as it twisted out of his grip.

He spun into his fall, managing to stay on his feet and recover quickly. He delivered a quick jab to the vamp's jaw, not hard enough to send him reeling like it would have a normal human, but hard enough to screw up the guy's next swing with the bat. As it whizzed by his face, Sam snatched the thick end of the bat with his palm, ignoring the stinging pain as he yanked the weapon away from his foe. The vampire didn't slow any and dealt a sharp jab to the hunter's face.

Reeling backwards, Sam was still blinking the floating lights out of his vision when the vamp hit him again, this time knocking him six feet backwards to the floor. He landed on his ass and was desperately trying to suck some breath back into his lungs when he looked up to see the vamp's teeth pop out in a vicious snarl aimed at him. He raised his arm to block the lunging beast, wincing at the thought of being bitten again.

This time, however, the fangs had barely grazed the skin on his arm when the vampire fell sideways, bowled over by a petite brunette with equally super strength. Sam didn't waste any time gawking, he jumped up onto his feet and retrieved his lost machete. He stepped into the flurry of fists being exchanged by Ruby and the vampire, grabbing the man by the hair from behind and sliding the long blade around so he held it pressed against his neck. The vampire stopped squirming immediately.

"Where's Ivan?" San demanded.

"I dunno, I dunno, please," the man pleaded.

Sam dug the razor sharp blade into the vampire's neck, slicing open a two-inch long cut.

"He's not here! He's not here!" the vampire screamed, trying to wrestle out of Sam's grasp. Sam simply tightened his hold with the machete.

"I can see that," he spat icily. "Where is he?"

"He left town! He left town!"

"Why do you keep saying all the wrong things?" Sam goaded. "Twice."

"He left! He left! He went to get his girl! Vicky! He said for us to hang tight and he'd meet us here sometime Wednesday."

"I don't believe you," Sam snarled, pushing the tip of the machete into the bleeding wound in the vampire's neck.

"It's true! It's true!" the vampire screamed, sticking to his habit of repeating himself. "Vicky and him had a fight when he agreed to work for the demons. He went to patch things up! He went to patch things up! He said he'd be back Wednesday!"

Sam's forehead creased in thought as he tried to decide if this was all the information he was going to get from the vamp. He decided it was and stood up sharply, shoving the vamp's head to the floor. He chopped it off quickly, surprised at the slight wave of nausea that swept through him at the sight of the blood.

Ruby watched him silently as they dug a shallow grave behind the barn and tossed the five bodies and their heads in before heading back to the Impala. It wasn't until she climbed into his usual shotgun seat that she spoke up.

"I don't get why catching this vampire's so important to you," she declared. "Shouldn't we be focusing on Netiran?"

"Ivan's hopped up on my blood," Sam offered. He didn't really expect Ruby to understand why that made it his responsibility, but even demons could understand revenge. "And he killed Colby."

"Colby. The guy that you'd known for all of _one _day," she remarked snidely with a roll of her eyes.

"He was a hunter, Ruby. And a good guy. That's enough for me." He gave her a suspicious frown. "I thought you remembered what it was like to be human."

"I do," she answered more quietly. "But if you want to save people, Sam, you shouldn't be risking getting yourself killed before you can take out Lillith and stop the Apocalypse."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**Later that day...**_

"Yeah but I couldn't do squat last time," Sam hissed angrily into the phone. "She was as immune to me as I am to her."

"_That was almost six weeks ago, Sam_," Ruby answered him. "_You've come a long way since then. And you were running low at the time. You have to start trusting me._"

"I do," he replied automatically without even realizing it was the first time he actually meant it.

"_And you're running out of time,"_ she pressed. "_You're sixty seals down. You need to be ready to take Lillith out or it's Hello Devil."_

"You're saying if I drink enough right beforehand, I'll be able to gank the bitch this time?"

"_That's what I've been telling you for weeks."_

"How will I know how much is enough?"

"_There isn't a 'too much', Sam." _

He sighed. "I just don't know. I mean, I couldn't even make her flinch last time. I want that bitch dead more than anyone, but do you really think this'll work? Oh crap, I gotta go. They're here already." Sam snapped his phone shut when he heard the motel door handle rattling.

"Hey, that was a quick drive," he said in way of greeting as his brother and Josh came into the room.

"Yeah, well your brother thinks he's Vin Diesel," Josh remarked, shutting the door after Shelby trotted through after him.

"You alright Dean?" Sam gave his brother a concerned look. He hadn't even spoken to him since yesterday afternoon and couldn't help the small wave of relief that swept over him at having him back in close proximity. Josh had answered his brother's phone this morning and informed him Dean was still sleeping. Dean still being fast asleep at ten o'clock in the morning had been very disconcerting.

"I'm fine," Dean waved a dismissive hand at Sam, not wanting to be asked too many questions about what had happened last night. He ignored a disturbing flash of memory that struck him as he locked eyes with his brother, a glimpse of Sam's face laughing as Dean's blood spurted out of a sliced artery and left a dripping red streak across the younger Winchester's face. "Any leads on Ivan?" he managed, looking away quickly and scanning the room for unwanted signs of Ruby.

"Yes," Sam answered hotly, firing an accusing glare in Josh's direction. "But I'll tell you about Ivan as soon as you fill me in on Netiran."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the tone of Sam's voice and glanced back and forth between the other two men in the room. _What was going on here?_

Josh shrugged and flopped onto the closest bed, clearly not bothered by the bitchface he had solicited from the youngest Winchester. He dug into the drive-thru bag he was holding and pulled out a muffin. "Hey, you wouldn't have told me the particulars 'till you were back in town either," he defended, taking a hungry bite. "You Winchesters are hotheads. You know you just would have gone after him alone. You think I want Dean taking another swing at me?"

Dean put two and two together and found himself feeling extremely grateful to Josh. For a guy who had only known the brothers for accumulatively less than two weeks, he had them pegged pretty well. Damn right Sam would have tried to take on Netty had Josh told him where to find him. He spared the blond man a nod of appreciation before turning to Sam.

"Dude, calm down. You know he's right. Now that we're all here, we can go gank the son of a bitch, okay?"

"So how do we find him?" Sam asked, dropping the issue. Of course he would have gone after Netty, but what the other two men weren't realizing is that he could take him. If Ruby was right, then he could take him. He badly wanted to try out her theory because if it worked, then he knew how to kill Lillith. Netiran would just have been batting practice. Thanks to Josh's annoying stubbornness on the phone last night though, he wasn't going to get that chance now that Dean was here.

"Apparently it takes three days for him to get all his gate-mojo back," Dean explained. "And during that three days, he has to stay kimda close to the site of the ritual, the school."

"Three days…so we've got until dawn tomorrow at the latest," Sam did the math quickly and glanced at his watch. "It's seven o'clock now…that's just over ten hours."

"Yep," Dean acknowledged with a nod. "I called Bobby and he gave me the instructions on how to scry for this clown. Shouldn't be too hard, the hocus pocus hoochie should pick him up in seconds since we're so close to where he's at. We can do it right here 'cause this motel's just across the river from the school."

"He's probably hanging out at the mattress factory," Sam thought out loud. "That would explain why the demons were still occupying the place after the ritual. It's not that far from the school."

"Well, from what I hear, you ruined that gig for them," Dean pointed out, for once leaving out the disapproving tone he usually adopted when Sam's powers were involved. "They've probably moved on."

"Well here's the million dollar question..." Josh swung his legs off the bed to rejoin the conversation.

"Don't you mean the _half_ million dollar question, Mr. Trump?" Dean snickered.

Josh laughed and gave him an unapologetic shrug, finally realizing why Dean had been calling him 'Mr. Gates' and '90210' and gesturing for him to pay up at every drive-thru and gas station they had hit for the past two days. Damn shapeshifter must have blabbed some details of the Brentons' financial status. "There's a boat and the house too, bro. Makes a mil easy," he said with an impudent grin.

Dean snorted but any further ribbing was cut off as Sam brought the conversation back to the task at hand. "What's the million dollar question, Josh?" he redirected.

"How do we kill Netty?" Josh said simply. "Finding him doesn't do us a whole lot of good if we can't kill him."

Dean looked sharply at his brother, ready to cut Sam off if the suggestion that he take him on was even made.

"Cas says he doesn't think Netty's pure run-of-the-mill demon," Sam shrugged, ignoring the warning look from Dean. "He doesn't think I'd be able to … uh … to take him out myself. He also says an angel can't gank him so for all we know Ruby's knife might not work either."

"What does that leave us?" Josh asked.

"Since when do you and Cas have heart to hearts?" Dean interjected, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Since you were recovering from almost being killed again," Sam shot back. "Anyway, Cas says an archangel could do it. I looked up the one that killed Netty a couple of millennia ago, Laoth, and he's supposedly a lower level archangel, but Cas says archangels don't like to get involved unless it's important."

"The Apocalypse isn't important?"

"Apparently not."

"If he's not pure demon, then what else is he?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "I was hoping Cas could come up with an answer for us but so far, he's MIA again."

Dean grunted. "Guy needs to get a freaking cell phone."

"Well, we can't wait for him, Dean. We're running out of time. We'll have to take our chances and hope the knife or something in the Impala's arsenal works. Let's do the scry and go get this guy."

SPN-SPN-SPN

The scry was remarkably easy. The weight on the string swayed for a few seconds before planting itself very clearly on a spot on the map just over the river a couple of blocks from the school. It wasn't the mattress factory's address and was instead listed online as an apartment complex.

"'Kay, we should go in one car," Dean announced standing up and gathering his things. "This time we leave together. All of us."_ No way they were splitting up again and no way anybpdy was dying this time._ "We'll take the Impala."

"No way, mine's a 4x4," Josh argued. "Came in handy before."

"Well mine's got a better arsenal in the trunk."

"Mine's got more room in the back seat."

"No, yours has more _**dog**_ _**hair**_ in the back seat."

"So will yours if we take her now."

"Not a problem, Richie Rich. You can get my baby detailed afterwards."

"Your 'baby' stands out too much."

"Compared to yours?" Dean snorted. "Mine's not riddled with bullet holes with a shot-out back window."

"Yeah but…"

"Hey! Can we shelf the juvenile rivalry for one freaking day?" Sam interjected in exasperation. "Can we just go already?"

Josh rolled his eyes but conceded to go in the Impala and the three left the room.

Dean gave his car's wheel a subtle caress as he slid in behind it, glad to finally be back in his baby. He pushed the Metallica tape into the cassette player with a smirk and turned up the volume in the rear speakers as he pulled out of the motel parking lot, chuckling at the frown on Josh's face he caught in the rear view mirror.

The plan was to do a bit of recon on the place before going in. If they were able to salt doors, get a few Devil's Traps chalked on the floor, and bless any water supply of the building then they may stand a fighting chance of getting out alive. Their sneaky preparatory tricks had saved their hides on more than one occasion in the past.

The address turned out to be a sixty-unit apartment building still under construction. According to the notice from the bank on the gate, the developer had lost its financial backing and the work had been stopped almost a month ago, leaving the building about seventy percent complete.

"Okay, so we got no running water or sprinklers to give the suckers a holy water shower," Dean rationalized. "We can still salt the doors and windows from the outside in case we need to make a quick getaway. He handed each man a bag of salt from the Impala's trunk and grabbed one for himself. "Josh, you know how to draw a Devil's Trap?"

"Offhand?" The blond man gave the Winchesters a sheepish look.

Dean simply handed the less experienced hunter a piece of paper with one drawn on it and a stick of chalk. "Draw one of these on the floor wherever you get the chance," he instructed tucking his .45 into the back of his pants next to Ruby's knife and shouldering a shotgun.

"What's the plan, Dean?" Sam asked, grudgingly letting his brother take charge. "We don't even know how to kill Netiran."

Dean shrugged. "We sneak in, find him, and stick him with the knife."

"What if it doesn't work? What if it doesn't kill him?"

Another shrug. "We'll deal with that when the time comes."

That earned him a familiar Sammy huff of disapproval. Dean grinned and closed his baby's trunk as quietly as he could. "Let's do this," he encouraged as he tapped a quick goodbye with his knuckle on the partially rolled down window to the dog in the back seat and strolled away towards the chainlink fence.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

**_TBC..._**

_Next chap: Showdown with Netiran..._


	25. Your Boss is Quite the Diva

**Chapter 25 - Your Boss is Quite the Diva**

The three men split up to salt the windows and look for signs of activity inside. It was still about a half-hour until dusk so it wasn't surprising no lights could be seen on inside the building. Dean peered in each main floor window as he salted the sills but saw nothing but empty, unpainted rooms. On the far side, he found an unlocked window and decided to take a quick detour inside. After all, he was the one with the knife. Best scenario – he runs into Netty first.

He crept from room to room, finding nothing but empty work buckets, scraps of building materials, and a broken stepladder. He was rounding a corner into the lobby when a figure appeared in the doorless opening to the stairs. He jumped and raised his shotgun, trigger finger twitching but stopped abruptly when he recognized the figure as Josh, who was lowering his own shotgun with a relieved sigh of recognition.

"Dude, I coulda killed you," Dean hissed.

"Ditto," came the whispered retort.

"What are you doing inside?" Dean asked.

Josh shrugged. "Door to the mechanical room in the basement was open. Figured I'd sneak a peek. Where's Sam?"

"I don't know. Probably still outside where we're supposed to be," Dean answered, hoping this was the truth. "You find anything?"

Josh shook his head and was about to suggest they go back out and regroup with Sam but stopped when a sharp noise came from the stairwell behind him. He stepped quickly into the lobby with Dean and flattened himself against the wall on the opposite side of the doorway. They both held their breath in silence, straining to listen.

The sound of male voices floated down the stairwell from at least two floors up. They were too muffled to be coming from within the stairwell but were probably from the hallway on a higher floor. Josh raised an eyebrow in silent question and Dean nodded, slipping past the doorjamb and heading for the steps.

Although they could no longer hear them, he decided the voices must have originated on the third floor. Feeling both guilty and relieved that they had gone in without Sam, Dean led the way as the two men crept through the door on the third floor landing and stepped out into the hallway. A silent '_eenie-meenie-miney-mo_' steered the hunter left and they walked slowly, listening closely for a brief moment at each apartment door they passed.

Dean raised his arm to signify he'd heard something as he stood with an ear pressed against a solid wooden door on the right hand side. Josh came to the other side of the door and both hunters raised the shotguns they were carrying. Dean mouthed a 'one' and a 'two' and went on three, turning the handle with a sharp twist and shouldering the door open.

They stormed into the apartment like a two-man S.W.A.T. team on a procedural cop show raiding a drug dealer's house, guns raised and fanning out as they moved into the room. This apartment, unlike the previous main floor units, was furnished with a couple of leather couches and a giant flat-screen TV on the far wall. They found themselves alone in the makeshift living room but company came soon enough in the form of two black-eyed men running in from a doorway on the right, startled looks on their faces. Neither was the man Netiran had taken over in the gym.

Dean didn't bother with his shotgun. Instead he let it drop to the floor and reached immediately for Ruby's knife in his waistband. He lunged at the closest demon, cursing as the man swiftly skipped backwards out of his reach. Determined to stay on the offensive, he lunged again and again, forcing the demon backwards towards the television.

He heard a single shotgun blast from behind him but couldn't spare a glance to check on his friend. At the outer extent of his fifth jab he was rewarded with the feel of the knife hitting home and watched with satisfaction as the blade sank into the demon's ribcage.

He heard a scream behind him and spun around before the lights of death had finished flashing from within the demon he had just killed. He turned to see the demon that had attacked Josh wiping madly at its face as the blond man splashed holy water on it from a flask. Knowing Josh's weaponry would merely serve as a deterrent, Dean moved over quickly to finish the demon off. It backed away from him with its arm out in a gesture of submission.

"Wait, wait," the possessed man pleaded, eyeing the knife warily and stealing frantic glances at the dead demon on the floor.

"I don't think so," Dean refused, feeling a sudden smugness at having the upper hand for once.

"You're the Winchesters!" the demon exclaimed, looking wide-eyed with recognition at the knife in Dean's hand. "I didn't know. Wait, wait," he motioned for the advancing hunter to stop. "I didn't know who you were. Can't we work something out here?"

Dean shook his head, taking another step forward. "The only thing I'm gonna be working out is whether to stick you in the heart or the gut."

He never got the chance to decide where to place his fatal strike, however, as he was suddenly flying through the air. The wall stopped him with a brutally unfriendly smack and he found himself held hard against the dented drywall by an invisible pressure against his back. That same force knocked the knife out of his hand and he cursed as he heard it hit the floor with a thud. He managed to squirm his body around to face outward so he could get a look at his new foe.

_Crap. It was Netty._

Netiran was standing a few steps into the apartment, his arm raised in the air before him and a look of distaste on his borrowed face. Josh was plastered up against the far wall with an equally pissed off expression, his shotgun lying useless on the floor before him.

"What is going on in here?" the boss addressed the demon Dean had been about to kill.

"These two just barged in," the demon stammered, looking almost as scared of Netiran as he had of Dean with Ruby's lethal knife.

Netiran lowered his arm but the hunters remained pinned on the walls. "They're humans, you ingrate," he hissed with obvious annoyance. "Just kill them already."

With that Netiran turned to leave but the underling found enough nerve to speak up. "I-I can't," he called out hesitantly.

His boss turned back around. "Why not? It's two measly humans! I'm even holding them in place for you. I swear, Lillith has sent me nothing but useless imbeciles." Netiran breathed a loud sigh of frustration. "Either you kill them now or I'll send you back to Hell like I did your incompetent colleague this morning."

"They're Sam and Dean Winchester," the demon blurted.

That got Netiran's attention. "Well well," he cooed with a sudden renewed interest. "I'll be damned. The Winchesters." He looked back and forth between Dean and Josh. "I'm almost flattered," he laughed haughtily, coming back into the center of the room and strolling around in front of the hunters, studying them both.

"I have had a terribly boring first three days back," he informed them casually, as if they would naturally be oh-so interested in his social calendar since being resurrected. "I've been spending my time in this dreary place getting caught up on the last two thousand years of history and, of course, on current affairs." He stopped in front of Dean, giving the hunter an amused smile. "It seems you two are quite the proverbial thorn in Lillith's side."

"We try our best," Dean quipped, his jaw tight with irritation at the invisible bonds holding him.

Netiran chuckled, sauntering over towards Josh and clearly enjoying being in complete control. "Well, I've been told I can kill Dean but Lillith would like to finish Samuel off herself, so I'll relinquish that honour to her. So," he squinted his eyes in scrutiny at Josh. "Which one of you is Dean?"

Josh gave him a hard stare but said nothing. Netiran turned again to Dean, eyebrows raised. Dean just smirked. Clearly Netiran didn't remember his brief encounter with the real Winchesters in the gym of the school. He had, after all, barely even glanced in their direction.

"Ahh, I see how it's going to be," Netiran still seemed more amused than angry. He turned to the demon. "Ben," he addressed him.

"It's Bill."

"Whatever, I don't care. Which one of these two is Dean?"

The demon shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted before adding quickly, "Uh…I heard Sam is taller."

Netiran perked up and stood aside as he waved a hand in the air. Josh sailed through the air across the room and slammed into the wall next to Dean with a grunt.

"_Ow! Fuck_," he gasped quietly, giving Dean a strained, sideways grin.

"So nice of you to join me, _b__ro_," Dean snickered back.

"They're the same height!" the apparently quick-tempered Netiran bellowed at his underling.

"Uh…Sam is the younger one," Bill offered hopefully.

Netiran narrowed his eyes, looking back and forth quickly between the two. "I can't be sure," he concluded through gritted teeth. "Come now, gentlemen," he seethed. "Just tell me which one of you is Dean and we can get this over with."

"I hear he's the smartass one," Bill offered.

"Actually, that's not quite right. I'm just smart and he's just an ass," Josh quipped, earning himself an eyeroll from Dean. Both hunters realized they would only stay alive as long as the demon believed one of them was Sam.

Netiran didn't find the joke amusing. "Have some honour," he coaxed. "I have a special treat for whichever one of you is Dean."

"Demon treats?" Dean poured on the sarcasm, making sure their captor didn't come to the conclusion either of them was more smart-assy than the other. "Is that like Milkbones?"

"Not at all," the demon replied, standing in front of the mouthy Winchester. "Fact of the matter is, I'm not going to just kill Dean," he gloated. "I'm going to send him back to Hell."

Dean's stomach lurched and it took all his will to hide the terror from his face as Netiran continued. "I heard Dean liked it there. He earned quite the reputation for himself. Quite the go-getter. I'm sure he's got an avid fan base waiting for him to come back and pick up where he left off."

The demon wasn't addressing either of them in particular and it was clear he liked the sound of his own voice. He sighed and gave them each one last look before turning back to the underling. "I don't have time for this. Find out which one is Dean and call me," he commanded sternly. With that he turned and pranced out of the apartment.

Both hunters tensed, waiting for the invisible restraints to fall away and release them. The knife was at Dean's feet and he prepared himself to lunge for it as soon as he was free. But the demon mojo never faltered. The men tried to pull against it but to no avail.

The demon Bill was still exhaling in relief, staring at the apartment door through which his tyrannical boss had just disappeared. Eventually he slowly turned back to the hunters, still looking more relieved than anything else. Josh struck up a conversation.

"So your boss is quite the diva, huh?"

Bill snorted. "You have no idea. He's been zapping us back to Hell if we so much as screw up his lunch order. There's was only me and Rowan left," he jerked his chin at the dead demon on the floor by the TV. "There were nine of us to start out with."

Josh laughed. "So what did you do wrong to get stuck on this detail?"

Dean grunted his disapproval of the light conversation. "Dude, you don't make nice with the demons!"

The blond man shrugged. "No harm in being civil."

"He's right," the demon grinned at Dean. "Netiran's hold can pin you there all day whether he's here or not so you're not going anywhere." He stepped forward and picked up Ruby's knife from the floor. "So which one of you is Sam?" he asked casually. "'Cause the fact that I'm still standing here proves the stories about him killing demons with his mind are just total bullshit."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam finished salting the windowsills on the rear of the building and made his way back around to the front to regroup. He was surprised to be the first back and his forehead creased with concern as he worked out the other men's routes in his head. Josh had gone around the other side so it was conceivable that he would still come back that way but Dean had taken the end of the building Sam had just walked round so he should definitely be here by now. He cursed under his breath as he realized his idiotic brother had gone inside alone. Not bothering to search any further or wait for Josh, he headed straight for the front door.

It was locked but Sam picked the padlock in about thirty seconds and yanked the chain off as quietly as he could without slowing down. He found himself in the empty front lobby and decided to head to the side of the building Dean would most likely have entered. What the Hell was Dean thinking? Surely he knew he couldn't take Netiran on by himself? Was this just an over-reaction to Sam's words under the siren's influence? Sam couldn't figure Dean out these days. One minute he's scared of his own shadow then the next he's charging in somewhere on a freaking suicide mission. He suspected the problem was more Dean's lack of caring about whether he lived or died at this point. Well, the selfish jerk should realize there are other people out there that did give a damn about him. Sam was fairly certain he wouldn't survive losing his brother again.

He was just starting down the main floor hallway when he heard a shotgun blast coming from one of the upper floors. There was an open doorway on his left to a stairwell and he charged through it, taking the steps three at a time.

He hesitated on the second floor landing, trying to decide if the shot had come from the second or the third floor. It was a large building and searching the wrong floor could take precious minutes Dean may not have. He decided he didn't have a choice and he stormed out into the second floor hallway.

"Dean!" he called, throwing open each empty apartment door as he went. "Dean!"

He got no response and found nothing. At the end of the row he spun on his heel and headed back to the stairs in the middle, not sure whether he should try the rest of the floor or head up to the third. He opted for the stairs and charged back into the landing only to find himself face to face with Netiran, who had been strolling down the steps.

Sam recognized him instantly from the school and raised his arm to send him a blast of his mojo. He was beaten to the punch, however, and found himself being hurled backwards down the stairs. Ignoring the painful smack to his shoulder and hip as he hit the concrete wall of the mid-level landing, he forced himself quickly to his feet and tried again, projecting his powers towards the figure at the top of the stairs.

Netiran flinched but barely faltered as he waved his hand in front of him as if brushing some unseen cobwebs away. He re-extended his arm in the young hunter's direction again and slowly advanced, descending two of the nine steps before stopping. Sam felt himself being crushed against the hard wall behind him and tried to focus on peeling himself away from it.

"This explains a lot," Netiran said coolly, a condescending smirk on his human face.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" grunted Sam, glad for the distraction of conversation to allow him to get his mojo together.

"Now it makes sense why neither of those pathetic excuses for heros that I have upstairs made any attempt to fight back," he explained.

Sam tried to keep up. _Excuses? Plural? He must be talking about Dean. Did he have Josh too? _Netiran's next sentence cleared any confusion or doubt Sam might have had.

"Dean and his friend were caught sneaking around my humble, albeit temporary, abode," he laughed a humourless laugh.

"What did you do to my brother?" Sam shouted, his fear for Dean reaching near panic mode.

"Well nothing yet," the demon taunted, his eyes flashing green. "I wasn't sure which one was Dean. Now it doesn't really matter so I get to kill both of them without robbing Lillith of her little prize."

Sam said nothing, relief sweeping through him that Dean was still alive. He renewed his focus on trying to break Netiran's invisible bonds. He thought he had become immune to the demon-pinning thing. Apparently the rules kept changing.

There was one rule the demons seemed unable to break, however. The unspoken rule that they had to monologue and taunt their prey before finishing them off. Sam cursed in silent anger as he stood pinned and helpless to escape the inevitable goading.

"Is that all you've got, Sam?" Netiran folded his arms across his chest, making holding Sam in place look effortless. "Let me tell you, you have been so overrated. I can't understand why Lillith is even bothering with you." He shrugged. "Well, if she wants to do you in herself, that's fine by me but personally, I think it's a waste of time. You're an insignificant nothing, just like your brother, whichever of those maggots he happens to be."

The hunter couldn't hide the flash of anger on his face at the insult to his brother. Netiran picked up on it. "Oh yes, I have your brother quite snugly pinned to the wall upstairs," he laughed. "I'm going to send him back to Hell, you know."

"No!" Sam cried in horror. _Not that. Anything but that._

"Why not? From what I hear, I'll be doing him a favour. He liked it there - was quite the teacher's pet."

"That's not who Dean is!" Sam spat, believing his words wholeheartedly.

"Maybe, maybe not. But it's who he's about to be in a few minutes when I send him back there. I need the practice, anyway. I'm running out of demons to toss back in the pit while I twiddle my thumbs in this miserable place." Netiran turned and walked up a few steps of the next flight before turning and leaning over the railing.

"You just stay put, Sam" he said with chilling politeness. "I've got a date with those two sacks of excrement upstairs, but don't worry, I'm stuck here until dawn so we'll have all night to chat."

To Sam's surprise, the mojo held him pinned even after Netiran left the stairwell on the third floor. Desperate now, he took a few deep breaths, concentrating on the energy and power he had tapped when killing Alistair. He threw it all at the invisible restraints, panting and grunting in effort. It took all his might, but he finally broke free, slipping away from the wall. He threw a quick look up the stairs but instead ran down, towards the main floor.

He raced out of the building, hoping Netiran's conceit and need for attention would provide Dean with enough of the demon's monologuing for Sam to do what he needed to do and still get back up there in time.

He threw open the Impala's trunk, fishing around inside his duffel for his flasks. He had polished off a full one right before Dean and Josh had returned from Missouri's but clearly it hadn't been enough. Ruby's words rang in his head, '_There isn't a 'too much', Sam' _and he hoped this extra flask would at least be enough.

As if on cue, Shelby started growling and barking furiously from the back seat of the Impala and Ruby appeared at his side just as he was downing the last drops. "You'll need more to take on Netiran," she said, pulling out a knife and slicing her arm. "Here."

He grabbed her arm wordlessly and started sucking. He drank as much as he had for Alistair before pulling back, gulping in deep breaths and wiping a sleeve across his face.

"You need more, Sam," she insisted, jabbing her arm at him again. "You need more."

He gave her a brief, uncertain look but again grabbed her arm, squeezing it slightly to increase the flow as he drank. She was talking as he swallowed but he could barely hear her past the thrumming in his ears and the pounding of his heart in his chest.

"You need it fresh from the source and you need a lot of it," she was saying. "Netiran's almost as powerful as Lillith."

He kept drinking until he felt her knees buckle. He pulled back, sucking in air noisily as he pushed her arm away. "He has Dean," was all he managed to say.

She nodded in understanding for Sam, if not worry for Dean, and pulled her sleeve back down. "Okay, let's go," she said, her voice sounding shaky. She pushed herself off the Impala's tailgate and swayed for a second before attempting to follow him.

Sam paused, giving her a genuinely concerned look. "No," he commanded sternly. "You're too weak, you can barely stand. You'd be defenseless. Stay here." With that he turned and stormed back into the building.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Netiran was gone for only a few minutes before he appeared in the apartment doorway again. The demon underling had spent the time on his cell phone, asking around to find out what the brothers looked like so he could determine which one was Dean. Both Josh and Dean had been glad for the peaceful approach because the alternative method of '_torture you until you tell me the truth_' had seemed somewhat less appealing.

Josh had actually spent the time chatting amicably with the demon, much to Dean's disapproval. The elder Winchester had to admit though, the surprisingly friendly demon Bill liked to talk and the more he talked, the less phone calls he made, so the surfer's stalling tactic was at least partially working.

Both men, and possibly Bill also, groaned under their breath when Netiran came back in the room. The boss demon looked smug as he approached the restrained hunters, stopping before them and standing with his hands folded behind his back.

"Don't you look like the cat who swallowed the canary," Dean commented.

"Hmm," Netiran smiled. "I have discovered something." He paused for effect.

Dean had never been big on patience. "Well, you gonna tell us or do we have to guess?"

"I'll guess!" Josh offered. "Uhh…you just discovered disco."

"No, he just discovered Baywatch," Dean grinned.

"He just found out that Britney lip syncs."

"Or that she's not a virgin."

Netiran raised his hand, still smiling in mild amusement. "Enough," he said quietly, silencing the room. "I have discovered Sam Winchester."

That got Dean's attention. Did he mean he thought he knew which one of them was Sam Winchester or that he'd actually found Sam? God, he sure as Hell hoped it was the first one. Though still pinned against the wall, during Netiran's absence, Dean had managed to move his hand down to his side. He could feel the tip of his .45 with his fingertips and was confident that he could pull it out if necessary. Nobody was going to Hell.

Netiran paused again, clearly reveling in the disappearance of the jovial banter the men had been managing despite their situation. "I ran into a young man in the stairwell," he continued. "Seems this young man had a meager ability against demons." He hovered his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "Not nearly enough to affect me," he gloated, "but it had to be Sam Winchester all the same."

"What did you do to him?" Dean asked, his voice raspy with fear for Sam.

"Oh he's fine for now," Netiran assured him, moving towards Dean. "But your concern leads me to believe you must be the elder Winchester brother."

"What if I am?" Dean challenged.

"To be honest, it doesn't really matter at this point," Netiran shrugged, standing back and addressing both men again. "Sam is the only one with the Do Not Kill order. That means both of you are mine to toy with."

Bill's cell phone suddenly rang, piercing the heavy moment with the ominous sound of Darth Vader's theme tune. "Oh, sorry," he stammered, snapping it open and turning away while he answered.

Netiran gritted his teeth and let out a slow, angry exhale. "I think perhaps Ben here shall be joining you two in Hell after all," he hissed quietly. He turned away and paced the room for a minute while the three listened to Bill's half of the conversation. Apparently he did not like to compete for attention.

"Good looking?" Bill was saying as he stared back and forth between Dean and Josh for a moment. "I dunno, they both are."

"Why Bill, that's sweet but we don't swing that way," Dean managed.

Bill ignored him. "Cocky?" he said into the phone, his eyes steering towards Dean. "And he wears a shirt over a t-shirt?" Now Bill was nodding. "All the time?…okay…yeah, light brown…nope, hasn't shaved in a few days…yeah, green eyes. Thanks Eric. That answers my question." He snapped his phone shut and turned to Netiran. "That's Dean Winchester," he announced, pointing to Dean.

"Why thank-you, you imbecile," Netty answered snidely. "But it doesn't really matter now, does it? I'm sending them both to Hell." He turned to Dean. "You first."

Dean swallowed but was surprisingly less scared than he thought he'd be. He slid his trigger finger into position on the gun behind his back. If he was being honest, he was more upset at having to shoot Josh than himself. He could handle dying but there was no way he was going back to Hell. And there was no way his friend was going there either. If they died before Netty could work his mojo, hopefully they'd end up in Heaven... well, unless that kinky shit he did with that waitress from Kentucky back in 2003 really was a mortal sin... then he may be screwed either way.

His biggest regret with this plan was that Sammy would be left alone. Clearly Netiran wasn't going to kill Sam himself so hopefully the kid would manage to escape and split. Dean knew it would crush Sam to see him dead again but at least Sam would be alive.

He thought rationally and coolly as he mentally prepared himself for whatever was coming next. Surely Netiran's mojo would pull back just enough before he tried to zap him back to the pit that he could get the gun up, shoot Josh in the head then eat a bullet himself.

He was wrong. A powerful force suddenly slammed into his chest, driving him backwards and actually _into_ the wall, rendering the hand with the gun useless. The pain was excruciating and he heard himself scream as he was thrust upwards, drywall chunks and shards spilling down over his shoulders. It only lasted an instant before, as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

Josh watched in horror as Netiran stepped forward and thrust the palm of his hand towards Dean's chest. The wall behind Josh shook as Dean flew up to the ceiling, tearing away the drywall as he did so. Dean screamed a short, pained scream then fell silent. Netiran stepped back and the hunter dropped heavily to the ground, motionless.

It all happened so quickly Josh wasn't aware his mouth was open in shock. Netiran sighed and looked to face him but Josh was too busy frantically searching the seemingly indestructible Dean for signs of breathing.

"It's so much easier than sending an angel downstairs," Netiran shrugged, looking disappointed. "But not nearly as much fun." He took a step towards Josh and the blond man held his breath, bracing himself for what was about to happen.

But Netiran didn't touch him. Instead, the demon flew backwards, away from Josh, and slammed into the opposite wall. Still holding his breath, Josh looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, hand outstretched towards Netiran. The pressure on his body released and Josh found himself standing on his own two feet. Struggling to keep his wits, he dropped to his knees and crawled over to Dean, pressing his fingers on the hunter's neck in search of a pulse.

"Is my brother okay?" he heard Sam rumble. The only sound in the room for the few seconds that seemed like an eternity was the gasping and wheezing of the newly-resurrected demon fighting against Sam's invisible bonds of will. He ignored them and concentrated on finding signs of life from Dean.

"JOSH! IS HE OKAY?"

"I'm sorry," Josh replied looking up and catching Sam's eye, his sympathy for the younger Winchester suddenly overtaking that for the older one lying still and lifeless on the floor in front of him. He shook his head.

"He's dead."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap: Sam's worst nightmare..._


	26. He Could Use a Hug

_"I'm sorry," Josh replied looking up and catching Sam's eye, his sympathy for the younger Winchester suddenly overtaking that for the older one lying still and lifeless on the floor in front of him. He shook his head. _

_"He's dead."_

**Chapter 26**** - He Could Use a Hug**

"Oh God," Josh breathed, rocking back on his heels and looking back down at Dean's lifeless face. "Netty sent him to Hell!"

He realized as soon as the words escaped his mouth that he shouldn't have spoken them out loud. Sam didn't need the extra burden of knowing where his brother was... but it was too late. The younger man's face was unreadable as he stood by the door with his arm outstretched towards the gasping Netiran on the far wall. His jaw was quivering as he stared in stony silence at his brother's body but Josh couldn't tell if it was from anger, shock, or grief. Probably all three.

Sam finally turned back to Netiran, jerking his extended hand and eliciting a blood-curdling scream from the pompous demon. "Bring him back!" he demanded hoarsely.

Netiran squared his shoulders somewhat and narrowed his eyes at the young hunter. "No," he replied defiantly.

Sam curled his lip and felt his blood boiling. It could have been from rage, grief, fear, or the pints of fresh demon blood coursing through his veins, he didn't know and didn't care.

"BRING HIM BACK!" he bellowed.

Netiran couldn't have obeyed even if he'd wanted to because he spent the next fifteen seconds screaming and writhing in pain against the unpainted apartment wall. Sam finally pulled back, releasing the demon long enough to answer his next question.

"Are you going to bring him back or not?" he said coldly.

The demon shook his head, still defiant though he had lost all of his former smugness. "No." His voice was raspy and hoarse. "You're just going to kill me regardless."

"No, if you bring him back, I'll just send you to Hell. If you don't, then I'll kill you." This time there was the barest hint of desperation around the edges of Sam's threatening words. He hoped the gasping demon hadn't noticed.

Netiran shook his head, eyes flashing green in his continued defiance. Blood gurgled out of his mouth as Sam once again twisted his hand and the gesture translated into agonizing pain for the demon.

"If the Apocalypse happens, you'll be brought topside again anyway, right?" Sam argued after a few seconds, switching to logic and this time managing to keep his voice void of emotion. "There's no coming back from dead."

Netiran finally looked like he was considering Sam's offer as he clutched his stomach and stared with open hatred at the imposing hunter. "I…I don't know if I can yet," he croaked.

Sam gave him another excruciating turn of the wrist.

"Argh!" the demon garbled. "Alright! All…right! Guh…I'll do it...guh."

The words barely registered to the younger Winchester and he took a few seconds to react. He struggled to pull his focus away from the anger he had released within himself and fought to restrain the power he was sending Netiran's way, retracting it forcibly from its target. Netiran relaxed against the wall, gulping in deep, wheezy breaths of air.

"DO IT!" Sam thundered, knowing every second Dean was gone was much more than that in Hell. "DO IT NOW!"

The demon nodded meekly and raised a trembling arm towards the lifeless form of the elder Winchester on the floor. Josh was still on his knees next to Dean and he instinctively shifted backwards, not sure what was going to happen to the hunter's body but not wanting to chance being caught up in whatever it was.

The walls started to vibrate, the window shattered, and the flat-screen TV toppled forward, crashing to the floor. Sam ignored it all and stood staring wildly at his brother, who remained motionless on the floor with his eyes closed. Images of carrying a bloody Dean to the Impala after the Hellhounds had killed him flashed through his mind. Of burying him in that shallow grave in Illinois. Of removing the ever-present pendant from his brother's neck and putting it on his own as a reminder of what he'd lost. Of suffering through the darkest four months of his life. Of blurring the pain, guilt, and grief into an alcohol-induced haze of anger and hatred.

"Nothing's happening!" Sam cried, his voice rising in pitch as near panic set in.

Netiran remained as he was, his arm outstretched towards Dean and a look of concentration on his face. The room was still vibrating but Dean showed no signs of life.

"Nononononono…" Sam repeated, unaware he was speaking out loud in his growing despair. Images of holding Dean in his arms after Lillith and the Hellhounds had left. Images of Bobby falling to his knees and sobbing uncontrollably as soon as he entered the room. "Nonononono, not again…" Sam pleaded aloud. "Come on Dean, please…"

The next few seconds dragged by at a torturously slow pace. Sam held his breath, his darkened eyes fixed on Dean as if he was trying to will his brother to move. He repeated his pleading mantra under his breath, his heart beating so fast he thought it might explode in his chest.

Finally the sound of a deep, wheezing gasp filled the air and Dean's chest lifted into the air as his back arched off the ground and Sam never thought anything had ever sounded so beautiful. Dean sucked in his first few breaths noisily, clutching at his chest as he immediately struggled to sit up.

Sam didn't waste any time. The instant he saw Dean's eyelids shoot open he turned to Netiran. No sooner had the demon lowered his arm than Sam blasted him with another bout of internal pain.

"No! Argh..you said you wouldn't!..." Netiran managed, turning to face his torturer with a terrified expression that was only amplified by the sparkling of orange lights flickering behind his hollowed-out cheeks.

"I lied," Sam said so casually it even gave him the chills. He threw every ounce of mojo he could muster at the demon and suppressed a slight smirk at the sound of his screams. As loud as Netiran was, however, Sam was acutely aware of the sounds from across the room of Dean coughing and wheezing and _breathing_.

He made quick work of Netty, hoping to finish him off before Dean was too aware of what was going on. As soon as the pompous demon slid down the wall into a crumpled heap on the floor, Sam dropped his arm and strode over to his brother in three giant steps.

Dean knew he was back in the land of the living. Whatever pain his real body was in now was nothing compared to the agony he had just endured in Hell. It may have been a short visit this time but the demons had gone right to work, cheering with vicious glee at his arrival and starting in right where they had left off almost a year ago. He knew the one gouging out his left eye hadn't been Sam but goddamn, it sure as Hell had looked like him. If he'd had any doubts about the validity of the memory he'd regained at Missouri's, they were wiped away three minutes after he'd found himself once again strapped on a stone rack with hooks and chains holding him savagely down and his brother standing over him cackling in twisted amusement.

His body had to fight for its first few breaths, as if his lungs had forgotten how to draw air in altogether. His heart was pounding in his chest as if making up for lost time and he clutched at his shirt in a futile attempt to stop the painful pressure. His eyes were open but he couldn't see yet and he struggled to sit up, half expecting to find a wooden coffin surrounding him like it had last time.

_Had Cas come for him again?_ He was going to have to buy that nerdy sonofabitch a beer.

He finally made it to the sitting position, planting his hands on the floor for lateral support. His vision was still blurred but was slowly revealing his surroundings to him. He was in a living room and there was an imposing figure moving towards him quickly. He tensed and braced himself for the imminent strike, an instinctive reaction that had returned all too quickly in the few hours he'd been back in the pit.

But the figure dropped to one knee in front of him and grabbed his shoulder. "Dean," it was saying. "Dean." A hand cupped the side of his head and by the time the face leaned in close to peer into his eyes, Dean recognized his brother.

"S'my," he slurred, his breath still hitching.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked, his voice laden with all sorts of restrained emotions.

Dean blinked and tried to give his brother a smile to show that he was, but as he focused on what should have been Sam's hazel eyes, he was shocked to find black ones staring back at him.

_It wasn't real! He was still in Hell._

He pushed the hands gripping his shoulders away, a guttural cry escaping his lips with the effort. He closed his eyes to block out the heart wrenching sight of the black-eyed evil sonofabitch masquerading as the kid he had loved since birth. This was all some sort of new trick, make him think he was out...

But the voice didn't laugh and the hands didn't make any move to hurt him. Instead they remained gently but firmly clasped on his shoulders. "Hey, hey, it's just me," he heard the voice say softly.

He stopped struggling and reopened his eyes. Hell-Sam never spoke like that. He refocused to see his brother's face again, this time with green surrounding his enlarged pupils.

_Crap, he'd been imagining it. This was the real Sam. Pull yourself together Dean._

"I'm fine," he managed, returning the shoulder grip. To his surprise, Sam yanked him forward, throwing their chests together in a rough but way-too-tight hug. Dean hesitated for only the briefest of moments before giving in and returning the embrace.

Sam remained silent save a hitched whisper in his brother's ear. "_Dean_."

The way-too-tight hug turned into a way-too-long hug but Dean didn't complain. Though he would never admit it, he was scared shitless and severely rattled by what he had just gone through and unbelievably, felt like he could use a hug. He had also been feeling estranged from Sam lately and this closeness was a welcome change.

There had been a distance between them, like they just couldn't find any common ground anymore. Whether it was the approach to whatever hunt they were on, Sam's increasingly insensitive attitude towards others, differences over Ruby, or the hole inside Dean that just kept getting bigger with every new ordeal he was put through, it all came down to a lessening of that connection Dean had always felt with Sam. That bond that had been his main source of inspiration and motivation since the day Sam had been born. And for that reason he allowed the hug, gripping his brother tightly in return, closing his eyes as he drank up the feel of him.

Neither of them dared to speak for the duration of the rare physical contact but they were snapped out of it by voices coming from the door behind them.

"Oh no you don't" they heard Josh say. Both brothers let go and turned to see Josh step in between the demon Bill and the apartment door, Ruby's knife in his hand.

"Wait, I thought…" Bill stammered, his eyes wide with fear as he glanced back at Sam for a second. "…I thought we were cool." He adopted a pleading tone as he addressed Josh, clearly the lesser threat in his mind. "I didn't do that," he said, pointing to Dean. "I didn't kill any of you."

Josh stepped forward quickly and rammed the knife into Bill's belly. "Well that's for ratting Dean out," he informed the demon as the lights flashed his demise. He stepped back as the body slumped to the ground and looked over to find both Winchesters looking up at him.

"Uh, bro, you alright?" he asked Dean warily as he stooped to wipe the bloody blade off on Bill's hoodie.

"'Course," Dean scoffed, sounding impressively convincing as he allowed Sam to throw his arm over a shoulder to help him up. "You know, been there done that already. Got the fucken t-shirt."

Sam clucked his disapproval at Dean's attempt at levity. Clearly the younger Winchester thought nothing about this was funny. Dean grunted as he was hoisted to his feet, his arm still slung over Sam for support. Sam quirked an eyebrow and gave him a questioning look as if to say 'Can you walk on your own?' Dean replied in the negative by tightening his grip on the taller man's shirt collar and the three of them made their way down the stairs.

Ruby was nowhere in sight when they reached the Impala, much to Sam's relief. He spared her a brief flicker of concern but nothing more as he guided Dean to the passenger side and opened the door for him.

Dean was settling himself in the shotgun position and Sam was hovering behind him. He twisted around when he heard Shelby growling as Josh opened the back door.

"Looks like you've lost your charm with the ladies, Bhodi," he joked, mistakenly thinking the dog was reacting to the blond man.

Sam knew better.

"Bull," Josh grinned back. "It's your frigging zombie smell that's got her going." He spoke a few soothing words to the dog, waiting for a friendly acknowledgement before sliding in next to her and receiving a slobbery face lick for his efforts. "See," he said, pushing the dog away. "I still got my charm."

"If that's your idea of a woman," Dean snorted.

Sam climbed in behind the wheel, his face stiff and somber as he pulled the Impala out onto the road. As usual, Dean ignored his younger brother's fear-induced moodiness and kept the conversation light and jovial.

"All this dying's making me hungry," he remarked, slapping Sam's shoulder and pointing to a Burger King drive-thru a hundred yards ahead. Sam sighed but put the turn signal on and three minutes later Dean was digging into a bacon double cheeseburger like he hadn't eaten in a month.

Josh went along with Dean's obvious need to keep the mood light but was astounded at how well the hunter had bounced back from his ordeal. He had done the math – if four months was forty years in Hell then the two minutes Dean had been dead this time translated into about four hours. Four hours of what the man had gone through at Missouri's? The guy dies, goes to Hell, and gets up like it's all par for the course. Granted, the joking was a bit forced and he seemed to be trying just a little too hard to appear unaffected, but all things considered, Josh was impressed with Dean's infinite resilience.

On the surface at least, the incident seemed to have shaken Sam more than it had the elder Winchester. Josh tried to imagine what the kid had just gone through, watching his brother die -again - but couldn't wrap his head around it. He couldn't even fathom the unimaginable horror of watching Lexie get killed or worse, sent to Hell. Josh had to give the younger man props too; he was a six-foot-four tower of fortitude in his own right.

It didn't take the Winchesters long to meander back to their opposite sides of the perpetually widening chasm between them. Dean spilled a drop of ketchup from his overloaded burger down his front, swearing as he dabbed it with his napkin. In doing so, his attention was drawn to his pendant and he wrapped his fingers around it as he grinned at his brother. "At least you didn't steal my necklace this time," he joked.

"It's not funny, Dean," Sam huffed, not amused.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Lighten up, Sammy. I'm fine. No harm, no foul."

"Fine?" Sam snapped. "Jesus Christ Dean! Could you can it with the fine? That was so close, _too_ close. This whole hunt has been screwed up, right from the start. First Josh almost gets killed, then Colby does get killed, then you get…" he swallowed and didn't finish the sentence. "We need to end this."

Dean's pretense of being in a good mood disappeared at Sam's words. "Don't even go there. You're like a freaking broken record. We lost the seal, sure, but Netty's dead so at least he won't be bringing any mofo's over to do Lillith's bidding. It's not any smarter to go charging after Lillith today than it was yesterday, Sam."

"This coming from you after what you just did?"

Dean threw his hands in the air, his voice raising to match his brother's. "How is what happened my fault?"

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Sam accused. "The plan was to meet around front and all go in together but you just marched right on in without me. Dad would have been pissed."

"Oh, _now_ you care what Dad woulda thought," Dean snapped back, knowing Sam had a point. He should have followed the plan. "Convenient."

"Why do you have such a problem with Dad these days?" Sam countered as he pulled the Impala into the motel parking lot. It seemed the more Sam understood their father and the choices he had made, the less Dean approved of a man he'd once worshipped. He also noticed Dean hadn't once asked him what had happened with Netiran and how he'd been brought back out of Hell. How was that not the first question out of his mouth?

Dean let out a long sigh, his hand wrapped around the door handle but he held off opening it and instead turned to Sam. "Look," he relented, "I get that you're just looking to pick a fight 'cause you got scared and, dude, I'm sorry about that," he said, only vaguely aware of the third man sitting quietly in the back seat. "I'm sorry you had to go through that again. Hell, I'm sorry_ I_ had to go through that again, but let's just get past it and keep moving forward, okay?"

Sam clenched his jaw, conceding that his snippiness probably was a by-product of his fear, and shut off the engine. "Fine," he said quietly. "What now?"

Dean opened his door and stepped out quickly, the fast-food meal having helped him considerably in regaining his strength. "Well, we still got a teenage vampire to gank," he pointed out.

"Yeah, bro," Josh chimed in, sliding out of the back seat and remembering Sam hadn't dished on where to find Ivan yet. "What did you find out about our Team Jacob dude?"

"Jacob's the werewolf," Sam corrected with a forced smile, making an effort to join the camaraderie and pretend all was fine like everyone else seemed to be doing. "Edward's the vampire."

"I'm not even gonna ask how you know this crap, Geek Boy," Dean grinned as they headed inside. "Or what team you're batting for."

Sam filled them in on his little adventure with Ruby while they had been at Missouri's, ignoring Dean's visible sneer every time the brunette's name was mentioned.

"So he's coming back Wednesday," Josh summarized. "It's technically Wednesday in less than four hours so do we head over there for midnight?"

"Sounds like a plan," Dean nodded, standing up as his phone started belting _Kashmir_ from his back pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open. "Hey Bobby…..Yeah, we dusted him….With Ruby's knife…." Sam and Josh exchanged a look at the obvious lie. "…Nah, no problems, we're good….what, today? Can't it wait?" Dean glanced over at Josh and Sam before heading into the bathroom and closing the door behind him, still listening into the phone but now with a frown on his face.

"Does Dean know what you did tonight?" Josh asked the younger Winchester quietly once they were alone. "How he got brought back?"

Sam shrugged, very curious at why Dean had taken the conversation with Bobby into the privacy of the bathroom. "He's probably figured it out," he answered truthfully.

"He still wouldn't approve?"

"If you had done it, he'd be all like '_way to go surfer bro_!'" he mimicked a half-hearted cheer by raising his hands in the air and rolling his eyes. "But since it's me, no. All my mojo is bad. I almost think he'd rather stay in Hell than have me use my abilities to save him." Sam sighed, leaning back in the too-small motel chair. "You know, he never thought your sister was a freak or discouraged her mojo," he pointed out. "Or any of the psychic's we've met over the years like Pam or Missouri. But for some reason, he just can't see any advantage to mine."

"Having a mojo or psychic thing or anything else kinda makes you a target," Josh offered. "You don't think my sister would be safer if she didn't attract evil SOB's like she was the last keg at a frat party? Dean just doesn't want the bullseye on your back getting any bigger."

Sam looked up thoughtfully at Josh. "You inclined to side with Dean on this one?" he asked, his voice taking on a very slight challenging edge.

Josh raised his hands in denial. "Hell no. If it weren't for you showing up when you did, Junior, I'd be roasting in Hell right now too. Literally. I'm not gonna lie and say the whole demon mojo thing doesn't give me the creeps, but you saved me and you definitely saved your brother today so, far as I'm concerned, it's a pretty good addition to the good guys' arsenal."

"Thanks," Sam mumbled, as Dean came back out of the bathroom shoving his phone back in his pocket. He wished his brother could see it that way.

"Hey, Moneybags," Dean jerked his chin at Josh. "I could really use some food and I'm broke. You mind cruisin' down to that diner at the end of the road and picking up some good eats?"

Sam hid his surprise at Dean's odd request and even more odd admission of funds shortage. He wasn't sure what his brother's game was but was ready and willing to play along with it once he figured it out.

Josh, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes at Dean. "You just ate," he pointed out, not making any move to get up.

Dean scoffed. "That was supper," he argued, rubbing his belly for effect. "I need some pie. Get like a whole blueberry one and maybe apple too," he ordered.

Josh sighed and rose to his feet. He had been expecting the Winchesters to ditch him after the hunt but had been hoping they would at least wait until Ivan had been taken out. He figured there was no point in admitting he had guessed the ploy for as skilled as the brothers were, if they wanted to ditch him, they would find a way. He figured it best to just go along with it and follow the Impala out of the parking lot when they took off.

He was at the door when he paused, turning to face the brothers who both had exaggerated expressions of complete innocence on their faces. He stifled a laugh and looked at them both in turn.

"You know," he ventured, "I may not have an angel on my shoulder or a demon in my back pocket, but I still have a stake in what happens to the planet. This isn't just your battle to fight." Getting no response from either hunter he continued. "What I'm saying is that you two don't have to shoulder the whole fight yourselves. There are a lot of skilled hunters out there who have a right to get in the ring. You guys have been through a lot – share the load a little, huh?"

"Okay…" Dean answered with an awkward smile. "So, you getting us some pie or what?"

Josh shook his head but left, throwing them a smile and a wave as he closed the door quietly behind him.

Sam turned to Dean. "What the heck was he going on about?"

Dean shrugged, a baffled grin spreading across his face. "Damned if I know. The guy is such a freaking woman."

Sam laughed. It was a pleasant sound and Dean found himself reacting to it with every piece of him that wasn't twisted up in a dark knot of dread and renewed despair and emptiness. He grinned at his brother and allowed himself the brief pleasure of being thankful to be alive.

"So what's with the subterfuge?" Sam asked.

"Subterfuge?" Dean quirked an eyebrow in a familiar tease.

Sam huffed, much to Dean's delight. "The scam about pie to get Josh out of the room," he clarified.

"Oh, that," Dean chuckled. "Well, I did feel like pie and I do only have four dollars in my pocket. I haven't had a chance to hustle in over a week."

"Dean, that's not why you sent Josh away."

"Yeah, right," Dean sighed, disappointed the brief, rare moment of brotherly humour was over. "Well, Bobby needs us, or one of us anyway, to meet him in South Dakota."

"Now? What for? Can it wait? Is he in trouble?"

Dean raised a hand, effectively stopping the stream of questions. "He's fine but he's figured out how to take Red-Eyes out."

"How?"

"He couldn't be specific on the phone," Dean shrugged. "But the deed needs to go down in a little church near Java, South Dakota by dawn."

"Java? That's over an hour from Bobby's place in Sioux Falls," Sam frowned. "That's like nine hours from here. We should have Ivan's head sometime tonight or tomorrow so tell him we can do it tomorrow night instead."

"Can't. It's gotta be within three days of the full moon. Apparently it's a _damn fussy spell_." Dean mimicked Bobby's gruff drawl as he repeated the last three words.

"Dean, we can't let Ivan get away." Sam didn't want Ivan to go free, especially if he was still strengthened from drinking his tainted blood, but even more so he didn't want to be anywhere near Alex in the immediate future. After the amount of demon blood he'd just ingested, she would sense him coming a mile away and he was terrified of giving her the opportunity to let the cat out of the bag. She had already made it clear she didn't approve of whatever she thought he was doing. "Let's send Josh to help Bobby out. Alex won't want to ditch him anymore if Red-Eyes is dead."

"Bobby says if Josh shows his face within a hundred miles, Lex will refuse to go through with it."

"Why?" Sam was more voicing his frustration than asking a real question.

"Dude, her parents, remember? I mean, can you blame her?"

Sam sighed. "Well we can't leave Josh here to face Ivan by himself so why don't you go help out Bobby while Josh and I go back to the barn?"

Dean gave him a distasteful look and shook his head. "Nah. You go and I'll stay with Emo-Boy. I can just tune him out when he starts going all Oprah. After all, I've had lots of practice growing up with you."

Sam ignored the tease and gave him a classic Sammy bitchface. "You _died_ tonight, remember?" he argued, worry causing his temper to flare up again. "Can't you just take it easy for one day and not insist on going after a supercharged vamp without me around to watch your back?"

Dean scoffed, frustrated that Sam's mood was once again taking a dramatic swing in the downward direction. "Dude, the ritual's probably just as dangerous. I'm betting Red-Eyes is a damn site nastier than Ivan."

Sam spun the tables, going for the old rabbit-season duck-season ploy. "And so you want to send me to face him?"

The elder Winchester waved a dismissive hand in the air, not falling for it. "Bobby knows what he's doing. If he says he can kill the bastard, then it'll work."

Sam let out a snort, annoyed now by his brother's inability to doubt or question any family member but him.

"What was that for?" Dean demanded.

"It's just funny is all," Sam retorted. "You always had such blind faith in Dad, now it's in Bobby. If they said it, it was true. If they tried it, it would get done. No doubts."

"Yeah, so?" Dean wasn't seeing the problem. Bobby had come through for them a hundred times. "There's nothing wrong with having a little faith in people, Sam."

"Why is it then that you've never had that same faith in me?"

"What?" Dean was dumbfounded. He had no clue where this new argument was coming from or where it was going. How could Sam even think that?"

As if he had heard Dean's silent question, Sam answered him. "You question everything I do. You hate me going anywhere alone. You don't trust in any decision I make, always second guessing me. We always play it your way, never mine. What, I don't measure up to Dad or Bobby? It was me who saved your ass from Alistair, Thanin, and Netiran, remember? You're welcome, by the way."

He paused, letting the cold sarcasm of his last words sink in. He knew he was getting somewhere by the hurt look on his brother's face. "I'm perfectly capable of finishing off this two-bit punk-ass vampire by myself," Sam continued, moving in for the kill. "You go help Bobby and Alex. You gotta face her sometime, Dean. Or don't you have the guts?"

Dean's wounded look quickly morphed into one of fury. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, successfully masking the hurt with a pretense of anger. He could insist over and over that he wasn't bothered by the cutting words Sam had spoken while under the influence of the siren but they both knew that was a lie. What Sam didn't understand, however, was that Dean was more upset by his suspicion that they could be the truth than any intended insult. That he would let Castiel and the whole fucking planet down. That he was too afraid and pathetic to do what needed done. Hell, he was proving it right now by acting like he was too chicken to face a goddamn girl. It wasn't that he was scared like Sam seemed to think, he just hated awkward, and being around Alex was awkward. Ivan was merely dangerous. Dangerous was much easier than awkward. Dangerous suited him fine.

He would pick physical danger over emotional any day.

He clenched his fists and decided to let Sam have his way. He turned to leave, taking three stiff steps to towards the door before turning back around to his brother. He manually reined in his temper and stuffed his hurt feelings back into the black hole inside him.

He couldn't leave like this.

He didn't want to break the already fraying bond between him and this near stranger standing before him and decided he was willing to try a rather desperate attempt to salvage their crumbling relationship – honesty.

"I'll go meet Bobby," he said, his voice strained and husky. "But for your information, I do trust you. I just…I just worry about you more than I do anyone else."

"I'm perfectly capable…" Sam began but was cut off.

"I know. I know that. But I lost you once and…and what I did…this whole mess…I just can't go through that again, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer before turning away.

Sam watched his brother's slumped shoulders disappear through the motel door as it closed with a soft click behind him.

"Yeah, well, neither can I," he mumbled to its faded, peeling paint. He stood in silence, listening to the Impala's engine roar into life and purr her way out of the parking lot, her beloved Dean behind her wheel.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Next Chap: The two timelines have finally merged! Dean sees Alex again and Sam and Josh go after Ivan..._


	27. What's With the Hair Metal, Bobby?

**Chapter 27 – What's With the Hair Metal, Bobby?**

Standing in the shadows at the far corner of the building, Josh watched in surprise as Dean left alone in the Impala. Had they been ditching him like he had thought, wouldn't Sam have gone with him? He stepped out from behind the office building where he had been conducting his mini-stakeout and made his way back over the gravel yard with Shelby at his heels.

He knocked before entering and found the younger Winchester sitting on the end of his bed with a forlorn look on his face. "Where'd Dean go?" Josh asked curiously.

"Bobby needed his help with something," Sam answered truthfully. "Looks like it's just me and you for this Ivan thing." He didn't point out that Josh had returned without the pie.

Josh nodded slowly. It was obvious there was more to the story than Sam was letting on but he didn't push. He had his suspicions Lexie might be with this Bobby guy and hoped she hadn't been hurt or was in any danger. He dismissed his fears quickly. Sure his sister had a knack for finding trouble but he was fairly certain the Winchesters would tell him if that was the case. At least he hoped they would.

Sam suggested they head over to the barn now since there was always a chance Ivan could return early. If the vamp showed up first, he would find nothing but a shallow grave containing the beheaded remains of his pack so chances were he wouldn't stick around and once he left town, finding him would be a lot harder. Josh agreed and the two headed out in the Bronco, Sam giving directions as Josh drove.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Alex was silent in the passenger seat of the old car as Bobby drove into the night. They were just a few minutes away from the old, abandoned church he had established as the perfect site to host the double-ritual. He glanced over at her, taking note of her curled knuckles and tense posture.

"Something botherin' you kiddo?" he ventured casually, though he knew darn well what that something was.

She smiled at him, rolling her shoulders a little in an attempt to look relaxed. "No, I'm fine."

"I've been around those Winchester kids long enough to recognize when something is eatin' at one of 'em," he answered with a snort. "Just 'cause you're a girl don't mean you're no different."

She chuckled at his habit of referring to her as 'kid' or 'kiddo'. She hadn't been anyone's 'kid' since her parents had died when she was seventeen. She contemplated deflecting the question by making fun of his double negative but just didn't have the heart for a friendly redneck tease at the moment.

"You worried this isn't gonna work, huh?" Bobby surmised.

"It never has before," she admitted quietly. "And I've tried a lot of times. It never…" she hesitated, scrunching up her face with worry. "It never ends well."

"We got it all sussed out this time," Bobby said encouragingly. "We know what he is and we got all our bases covered. I ain't gonna let him hurt you this time, hon."

"It's not just me I'm worried about, Bobby," she admitted. "I know you and Dean won't be inside with him, but you've never seen Red-Eyes when he gets mad. He gets… nasty."

Bobby sighed. It was obvious she was scared and honestly, that didn't surprise him. She would have to be pretty foolish if she wasn't at least a little bit scared. Foolish or a Winchester by blood. After all, it was the times that she had attempted to kill Red-Eyes and failed that he had been the most violent, almost killing her on more than one occasion and killing Bill Harvelle and both her parents on others. But Bobby didn't want her to be so distracted worrying about everyone else that she didn't get done what needed done for the ritual. He had convinced her to go through with this by lying, telling her that he and Dean would stay outside and wouldn't have to come into the church with Red-Eyes at all. She had been skeptical at first and had refused, adamant that nobody else was to be in any danger whatsoever, but Bobby could be a conniving rogue when he wanted to be and had eventually convinced her.

For nearly a week, the mechanic had kept the fact that Josh had followed Sam and Dean to Denver and was working a dangerous hunt with them from Alex, not wanting her to worry. But after hitting a brick wall in his attempts to get her to agree to this plan, he had finally come clean last night. With her realization that Josh was not going to go back to California quietly, she had relented almost immediately. Bobby had never met Josh but figured the man must be a stand-up guy because it was clear how much Lex loved her brother. He had only come across that level of sibling love and devotion a handful of times in his life, the most notable example being his very own Winchester boys.

He wondered briefly how screwed up the girl in his passenger seat would have ended up if she hadn't had such a close relationship. Probably what Dean would have ended up had he not had Sam. Messed up and empty.

"Red ain't gonna have a chance to hurt anyone," Bobby assured her. "And then you can stop hiding and you can call that dang brother of yours and stop worrying about him."

"I'm not worried about Josh," she lied. "He's safer with Sam and Dean that he is with me."

Bobby didn't bother mentioning that only a few days ago he'd given the Winchesters directions to a veterinarian clinic because her brother was bleeding out in their back seat. Nobody was very safe around the Winchesters except the Winchesters. No, scratch that. They were the least safe of the bunch since they kept dying. It was just misleading because they kept coming back.

"Look," he said to her, his voice softening. "This'll work. You just gotta trust me on that. I wouldn't let you do this if I didn't think it would work. And I sure as heck wouldn't let one of my boys to do it either. Like I said, I ain't gonna let anything bad happen to you."

The blonde's blue eyes thanked him silently as she managed a genuine smile in his direction. Even though her mouth couldn't articulate the gratitude, Bobby got it - she was trusting him. He swallowed hard, hoping he would be proven deserving of that trust.

She leaned forward and started tapping buttons on the iPod jack she had somehow persuaded him to install after giving away the Bronco last week. Twisted Sister's _We're Not Gonna Take It __suddenly_blared from the speakers.

"We just need the right music, B," she grinned, raising her voice to be heard over the tunes. "Something to pump us up."

The mechanic grimaced at the offensive noise but smiled back at her. "Alrightee then. Let's go gank that son of a gun once and for all."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Dean and his baby made good time and were the first ones to arrive at the old, empty church in Java, South Dakota. Unlike most churches in the area, the building was made of stone, not timber, and Greek writing adorned the archway leading up to the main door. He had only been there a few minutes when he heard the familiar rattle of Bobby's favourite mixed breed car coming in through the gate. He leaned back on the hood of his own pride and joy with his arms folded across his chest, an amused look on his face at the sound of Twisted Sister blasting from the mechanic's stereo, which was usually restricted to the likes of Merle Haggard and Hank Williams Senior.

"What's with the hair metal, Bobby?" he grinned as the mechanic pulled up next to him and the engine cut out with a shuddering groan.

Bobby got out of the car. He badly wanted to hug the boy after not seeing him in almost six weeks but refrained, knowing that just wasn't a socially accepted practice in their rag-tag family. Not unless one of them had just escaped the jaws of death. Instead he settled for a scowl and a nod. "Thanks for comin'," he said.

"Of course," Dean answered, glancing over at Alex as she came around the hood of Bobby's car towards them. He hated that his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her but it did. "Hi Lex."

"Hi Dean," she returned the greeting in a friendly enough manner. "How's it going?"

_Well, I died last night and spent a few hours in Hell and we just lost the sixtieth seal so the planet's pretty much fucked and I think my brother used demon powers to gank one of the most powerful demons around and it turns out I started this whole thing so everyone's gonna die a horrible fiery death thanks to me, but apart from that, everything's just peachy._

"Pretty good," he replied simply. Holy crap she looked good. And what the Hell was the matter with him that after all this time he couldn't turn off this damn feeling he got every time he saw her? Not the guilt or the regret – he suspected those ones were here to stay – but that other one...

"How's my brother?" she asked him.

"He misses you," Dean said truthfully. "And he's a stubborn son of a gun; he won't stop trying to find you."

She gave a little nod to indicate that had been the answer she'd been expecting. "Well, if this thing works, I promise I'll call him."

"Hey, what did I tell you?" Bobby interjected, frowning at Alex.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah. I meant _when_ this thing works." She grabbed a can of paint and pulled a piece of paper with symbols drawn on it from her pocket. "I'm gonna go draw the Cucui trap on the roof," she told him. "I'll let you fill Dean in on things."

"That's okay, kiddo," Bobby said, reaching for the can of paint. "I can climb up on the roof…" He stopped when he caught sight of her narrowing eyes and disapproving frown. "But maybe I'll just let you do it since you're just as capable being a gal and all." He backed down with a grunt, remembering how much she hated not being treated like an equal.

She grinned at him. "That's right, B. You're catching on. Besides, I wouldn't want you to strain something. You're not getting any younger, you know." She winked at him before turning to head over to the old stone building. Bobby and Dean watched her climb rather gracefully up the stone buttress and swing herself up over the large, ornate cornice on the building's eave.

Dean turned to Bobby in disbelief and open amusement. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did she just call you old and live to tell the tale?" He quirked an eyebrow at his old friend. "You'd have cuffed me one if I'd have said that."

"You know better," Bobby said gruffly, moving to open his car's trunk and get out the rest of supplies they would need.

"B?" Dean pressed, still smiling and wondering just what had been going on at the Singer residence in the past six weeks. Alex sure as heck seemed relaxed and friendly around the older mechanic. She certainly hadn't been that way last week in Nebraska with Sam and Dean. How had grouchy, crass ol' Bobby managed to get on her good side? "She's calling you B?"

Bobby scowled. "You shoulda heard some of the other ones she was coming up with. Gal sure likes her nicknames."

Dean snickered. "You haven't met her brother yet."

"Okay, boy. If you're done makin' fun of me, I'll give you the scoop."

"I'm all ears. Let's kill this bastard." Dean looked over at the church where Alex was on her knees halfway up the steeply sloped roof spraying strange symbols onto the slate shingles. "Let's do right by her for a change," he mumbled.

Bobby followed Dean's gaze and nodded in agreement. "'Kay, here's the Coles notes version," he started. "There was this place called Cimmeria in Ancient Greece. I didn't think it was real 'cause the only mention of it I was aware of was by Homer."

"Homer Simpson?"

Bobby slapped Dean on the back of the head. "Homer the Greek poet ya idjit! Now don't interrupt."

"Ow!" Dean rubbed his head, giving Bobby a sheepish look.

"Cimmeria was a land of fog and darkness where the sun never rose and is rumoured to be the place of origin for Crocattas. Crocattas, as you know, are scavengers who feed on human souls and have the ability to manipulate electronic feeds."

"Like the one that called me pretending to be Dad," Dean said softly, already forgetting the no interruption rule.

Bobby didn't scold him for it. "Yeah, son, like that one. Well, the Cimmerians apparently had a queen who was half Crocatta and half god, which makes her a bad-ass soul-sucking demi-goddess. That would be Red-Eyes's mama."

"You mapped out the fugly's family tree?" Dean gave his friend a lopsided smile but quickly withdrew it. "Sorry, go on."

"Cimmeria was constantly being invaded by Cucui, these nasty goblin-type creatures who would come in and rape and pillage and whatnot. That's where Red's glowing red eyes and the only-being-visible-when-he-wants-to-be comes from," he explained. "I found an obscure text that tells the story of the demi-god queen Crocatta falling in love with one of these Cucui raiders and havin' a fling with him. Her subjects found out and killed him but by then, she was already knocked up."

Bobby leaned back on the trunk of his car before continuing. "Her subjects didn't take too kindly to the bastard child of a raiding Cucui livin' as their prince so they cursed him and stoned him and when he was still a youngster, finally drove him away and banished him."

"Jeez Bobby, you're making me almost feel sorry for the thing."

"Well don't," Bobby assured him. "Lore says he was bitter, evil, and derived sick pleasure from feeding on the physical pain of others. In fact, he thrives on it. Our gal there," Bobby gestured towards the church roof, "gives him an extra helping of yummy 'cause of the psychic link."

"Alright then," Dean nodded, absorbing all the information and thinking it was a good thing he had come instead of Sam after all. The last thing Sam needed was this mofo catching his scent. "So how do we kill him?"

"A Cucui trap has to be marked on the roof under the full moon, or within three nights before or after the full moon," Bobby explained. "That's what Lex is doin' now. This Divajhian trap," he held up a piece of paper with a triangle and an assortment of symbols drawn on it, "is a demi-god trap and goes on the floor inside the church. The plan is to summon the prick and trap him inside the demi-god trap and under the Cucui trap…"

"How do we know he'll come?" Dean interrupted again. "We can summon all we want but if he gets wind of a trap he's not gonna show. Forcing him here's a whole different story."

Bobby curled his lip in distaste. "After getting his fill of the poor gal every day for months in Oceanview, I'm willing to bet he's looking for her. It's been six weeks; when we give him a sniff, he'll show."

Dean didn't like the sound of that but nodded. Using someone as bait was often a necessity in hunting supernatural monsters. He didn't like it but if it meant killing Red-Eyes, he'd go along with it. He and Bobby would be there to make sure nothing happened to Alex.

"Where do I come in?" he asked.

"Well, that's where it gets tricky," Bobby admitted. "See, like a couple of clowns I know, Lex is a tad stubborn. She refuses to go through with anything if anyone else is around, on account of what happened to her parents, ya know."

"Can't blame her for being wary," Dean admitted, "but they weren't trained hunters."

"This thing's taken down hunters, too, Dean."

Dean gave his old friend a boastful grin. "Not of our calibre, Bobby."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Don't get cocky boy. You remember she told you about a hunter getting killed when she was just a squirt?"

Dean nodded.

"Well, that wasn't no amateur. Turns out that was Bill Harvelle."

Dean's eyes shot open. "Ellen's Bill? Jo's Dad?"

"Yep. He was a damn reputable hunter."

"But…" Dean was putting two and two together, "but he was with Dad when he died."

Bobby nodded gravely. "Yep, John Winchester was the other hunter. The one that dropped her back off at her house covered in Bill's blood and drove away."

Dean didn't miss the open disapproval in Bobby's tone and had to admit he was suddenly feeling very disappointed in his father himself.

"But why didn't he go back and finish the job?" he demanded. "How could he just leave a little kid to keep getting tortured? That's not like my Dad." As much as John Winchester had dropped in hero status in Dean's eyes recently, he still couldn't believe the man would have left an eight year old girl in danger. He would have come back. He would have saved her. _Oh crap_, Dean realized, _his Dad could have saved her parents_.

Bobby shrugged. "Honestly, he was pretty out of sorts after Bill died and apparently Lex's family up and moved away within a week. At any rate, she don't know about Bill so let's just keep that between us, okay?"

Dean nodded, suddenly feeling even more responsible for Alex's safety. Since his father was dead, the obligation to finish what he had started fell on Dean. With renewed determination, he looked to Bobby once again. "Okay, so I pretend like I'm gonna stay on the outside. Not a problem; I've got some skills when it comes to lying to women." He threw Bobby a quick smirk before growing serious again. "What do I need to do once he's here?"

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

"Would you get that dog under control?" Sam bitched. "She keeps growling at me and she looks like she's gonna bite my head off." He was feeling pleased with himself, now that he knew how he was going to kill Lillith and all he had to do was find her, but the unfriendly attentions of Colby's dog in the back seat were ruining his mood.

They were in the Bronco waiting for Ivan to show, parked off the gravel driveway in the trees by the barn, far enough away that the vampire wouldn't catch their scent but close enough they could see him enter the barn. They'd been there for about two hours and, unlike last time they had been stuck together when Dean had been taken by the shapeshifter, they were both relaxed and chatting rather amicably. Except Shelby, that was.

"Sorry, man," Josh laughed, twisting in his driver's seat and scratching the husky behind the ear. "I don't know why she doesn't like you." The husky stopped growling and leaned her head on the blond man's shoulder with a whimper. "You know, I'm gonna miss her when I find a good home for her," Josh said. "She's a good doggie." '_Good doggie_' was said in baby-speak and was accompanied by an affectionate ear scratch.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Just keep her. She likes you."

"Can't," Josh answered grudgingly. "I can't risk having to abandon her at some point when we have to leave town pretty quick."

"I hate to state the obvious, dude, but without Alex, you won't have to leave in a hurry and Alex isn't around anymore."

Josh gave him a hard stare before lifting one shoulder in a stiff shrug. "Yeah, we'll see about that," was all he said.

"Seriously," Sam pressed. "Who do you think Colby would want looking after his dog? Some stranger? I think we both know he would want you more than anyone else to keep her. You must have been able to see that much." Sam hoped he didn't need to elaborate. Josh ' ' Brenton couldn't possibly have _not_ seen how Colby felt about him. Even Dean had figured that out.

Josh gave him an uncomfortable frown. "We'll see," he mumbled. "You know, my sister had as big a crush on this dog as she did on Cole." He was silent for a minute. "Rufus called to let me know he had no problems getting him out of the morgue and he gave him a proper hunter's salt and burn up in Vermont."

"That's good." Sam couldn't think of anything else to say. After all, he'd only known the likeable young Texan for the better part of a day.

A cop car rolled by slowly on the road behind them. Even though the Bronco's headlights were off and they were sheltered by the leaves of two oak trees, both hunters instinctively hunkered down in their seats.

"He was going kind of slow; think he saw us?" Josh asked nervously.

"No," Sam replied confidently. "We're too far in the trees. But you really have to fix your car, man. It's hard to fly under the radar with bullet holes all down the side of it. And you and Dean did a number on that first motel room, remember? It was completely trashed so the manager definitely would have reported us. There's probably a citywide APB out on both our cars already."

Josh grinned. "Nah, don't sweat that, Junior. I paid for the damage to the motel room."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Not fair to stiff the owner of the place because I threw a stupid punch. But do me a favour and don't tell your brother, okay? He'd just rile me about it."

Sam laughed heartily and shook his head in disbelief. "You know what, Josh?" he said. "You are way too nice of a guy for this line of work. I have no idea how you lasted six months in prison."

Josh grinned. "Prison was easy. Whatever my sister arranged with Mendoza's crew, it worked. I had this giant goon named Ortese following me around wherever I went watching my back. I mean, I couldn't get rid of him even when I tried. Got so bad I couldn't even strike up a good game of poker in the yard 'cause he was so freaking intimidating. I signed up for GED tutoring duty and somehow the Mendoza gang swung it so Ortese was my only pupil."

"You signed up to tutor prison inmates?"

Josh missed the teasing tone of the younger man's question. "Of course. A lot of those guys aren't bad dudes; they just weren't given any opportunities growing up."

Sam burst out laughing and Josh realized he'd admitted too much. "Shut up," he scoffed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Jeez, you're as bad as your brother."

His embarrassment was short-lived however and he tapped Sam's arm suddenly and pointed as a BMW turned into the driveway, rolling slowly towards the barn. It came to a stop by the front doors and Ivan stepped out of the driver's side. A very pretty petite blonde wearing a summer dress and sandals who didn't look a day over sixteen waited for him to open her door before stepping gingerly out of the other side, taking his hand as they headed towards the barn.

"Showtime," Sam growled, reaching for his machete.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Bobby had just finished divulging the plan to the younger hunter when Alex returned from setting the Cucui trap.

"Okay, all done," she announced, coming to stand next to them. "Like you said, Bobby, I left one line out so he can get inside the trap so one of you will have to stay up on the roof to add it after he gets here."

Bobby hefted a large bag of salt out of his trunk. "Right then, I'll go set up the Divajhian Trap inside," he said, heading off towards the building. "Dean, you sort the stuff for the ritual and sharpen the stakes to ice this clown with. Only a couple of hours 'til sunup; let's get this show on the road."

Dean nodded and stepped over to the open trunk of Bobby's car to find the supplies in question. He found the stake and the herbs and was rooting around for what he and Sam teasingly referred to as Bobby's cauldron when he heard Alex addressing him.

"Dean?"

He turned to see she was still standing a few feet away, paint can in her hand. "Yeah?"

"You know you don't have to do this, right?"

"Of course I do," he answered, turning and leaning against the tailgate. "Red-Eyes has to be taken out."

"What I mean is, I don't want you to feel obligated to do this," she clarified. "Because of what I said in Nebraska last week. I didn't really mean that."

"Nah, you were right," he shrugged.

"No, I was being a bitch," she chuckled. "I just really wanted to make sure you didn't tell Josh where I was."

"Well, it worked," Dean told her honestly. "I didn't tell him and he was pissed."

She winced. "Did he do that?" she gestured to a purple bruise on Dean's jawline, taking a step closer.

The hunter laughed. "No," he said truthfully. That particular one had been the shapeshifter. He pointed instead to the ugly, yellowing mark on his neck. "But he gave me this one. Hurt like a son of a bitch."

"Ooh. Sorry. Let me guess, his elbow? He uses his knees and elbows a lot when he fights," she informed him, a hint of a fond smile playing on her lips at the mention of her brother before her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You didn't hit him back did you?"

Dean gave her a look of mild incredulity. Apparently he had been supposed to stand there and take it... twice. "No," he lied defensively. Well, actually, it was only a partial lie because he hadn't returned any hits the first time they'd thrown down outside the jail. That had to count for something.

Encouraged by her much friendlier attitude than last time, Dean decided to clear the air once and for all. "Look, Lex, I need to say something. I know you don't wanna hear it but... fuck, I'm sorry about everything. About Oceanview and your uncle and what went down. I was wrong. I was an idiot. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am so there's no point in trying. If I could take it back..." He slumped his shoulders and gave her a pleading look. "I know I don't deserve it but I'm kinda hoping maybe someday you'll give me a pass it all and maybe we can..." He cut himself off, not daring to say any of the delusional words and phrases his traitorous mind was bombarding him with like '_get back to where we were'_, or _'try make something of this'_ or even '_kiss and make up'. _Instead he picked out the words he had carefully selected for the occasion, "... get past what I did."

She smiled, not as widely as the imaginary Lex had smiled at him in the freezer a couple of days ago, but a genuine smile all the same. "Dean, I don't blame you for what happened. Bobby showed me the evidence and... I mean, even before that I... " It was her turn to get flustered. "The truth is, I forgave you the minute I woke up in your car at the California border."

Dean perked up at the blunt admission, feeling a huge weight lift off his chest. He hadn't expected anything near forgiveness and had been willing to settle for 'I don't hate you'.

"So that's it?" he asked, surprised it had been this easy. "Forgive and forget just like that?"

She looked down for a second, pursing her lips. "I said I forgave you," she shrugged apologetically as her eyes met his again. "But honestly, I'm still working on the forgetting part."

That stung but it was still good enough for Dean. She was forgiving him for making a mistake and being fooled by the video tapes but couldn't dismiss the personal betrayal and how much she had been hurt by it. Her words exonerated Sam and Bobby and cleared him more than he'd figured he'd ever get cleared. More than he deserved to get cleared.

"Okay," he said as he nodded in acceptance. "I get it. I can live with that." He closed the trunk, needing to change the subject but feeling much lighter. "Let's get inside and do this, huh?"

Bobby was inspecting his Divajhian Trap formed with salt and gofer dust on the floor of the main church hall when they walked in.

"Right then," he concluded, straightening up and resting his hands on his hips. "This should hold him."

"For how long do you figure?" Alex asked, trying not to look doubtful or scared.

Bobby could sense rather than hear the wariness in her tone. "Long enough for you to do the spell that'll strip him of his Cucui regenerative powers," he assured her, pointing to the symbols drawn on the floor on the back side of the room next to the sorted herbs and Bobby's ornate silver cauldron. "I'll have to stay on the roof to close the Cucui trap as soon as he gets here," he reminded her, "and this idjit will be outside lighting the ring of seven fires around the building to complete the holding spell for the demi-god trap." He jerked his thumb at Dean, who was sharpening an assortment of wooden stakes he had dumped out of the duffel and laid out on the stone altar.

She nodded. "Right, and when I finish the spell, I grab a stake and stab him." She looked apprehensively at Bobby. "That's gonna be the hard part," she admitted. "But you guys have to remember, no matter what happens, you _have_ to stay outside."

"Of course," they both acknowledged a little too quickly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Bobby," she said quietly, tilting her head sideways in warning. "You promised. He won't kill me but he won't hesitate to kill you. Either of you," she turned her head to include Dean in the point she was trying to make.

"Stay outside," Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "I got it. You just be careful staking the jerk, okay? Remember, quick jab and jump back out of the triangle."

Dean didn't feel in the least guilty lying to Alex about staying outside. In truth, as soon as Red-Eyes showed up, Bobby was going to close the Cucui trap on the roof by adding the one line Alex had intentionally left out. Then Bobby would jump down and light the last of the seven fires they had fueled up around the church that were necessary to give the Divajhian Trap its time-limited holding power. Dean, on the other hand, was to light the first couple only then hightail it inside the moment Red-Eyes made an appearance. He would no doubt then have a quick argument with Alex during which he'd point out that there was no turning back now so just suck it up and do the spell that would prevent Red-Eyes from healing himself. He and Bobby were fairly certain she would realize she had no choice at that point but Dean was prepared to do it if she refused or froze. His Latin sucked but he was confident he could manage and Bobby had given him an extra copy of the incantation just in case he had to.

Dean would then go in for the kill with the stake. Alex had described her monster as big and strong and vicious and Dean was all for equal rights but there was no way they were going to let her try and stab him herself. He wasn't even sure if he would be able to best the thing but he would at least be able to get its attention while she stabbed it from behind or something.

He had questioned the use of a stake, suggesting it would be far easier to use the crossbow from a safe distance _outside_ the triangular trap. Bobby, naturally, had scolded him for assuming the older hunter hadn't already thought of that and explained the complication. Apparently the stripping spell was only effective against weapons held _by the hand_ _of those involved in the spell_. This meant Dean had to get inside the markings on the floor at the back of the room by the altar while he or Alex recited the spell and then he had to kill Red-Eyes with a handheld weapon that would work on a demi-god, hence the wooden stake. Dean had grumbled about hocus pocus hoochie always being so damned complicated and spooky but had conceded Bobby's plan was, as usual, well thought out.

He refrained from mentioning how often Bobby's well thought out plans went to pot.

He was just finishing up whittling the end of the last stake when a rat ran out from under the alter, scrambling over his foot on its way to the darkness of the back room of the church. He jumped and yelled, startling the other two. Bobby gave him a look of shameful disgust when he saw the smallish rodent scampering away.

"What?" Dean defended sheepishly. "They've got diseases."

Alex giggled. "Good job you're staying outside," she teased, "'cause there's another one in that corner staring at you right now."

Not sure if she was joking or not, Dean stole a furtive glance to the corner in question as he walked over to give her a handful of stakes. In the darkness, he could definitely see a pair of tiny eyes that did seem to be following him. "That's the fifth rat I've seen since we got here," he grumbled. "I freaking hate rats!"

Alex took the stakes from Dean, slipping the smaller ones inside her jacket, one on each side, so she could keep them hidden until she got close enough to Red-Eyes to use them. Surprise was the only way to get the drop on him. She'd managed to stab him a few times in the past with various weapons, always by hiding them until he moved in close enough to grab her.

"We ready?" she asked, trying to sound gung-ho.

"As we'll ever be," Bobby replied, giving her a nod of assurance and ushering Dean out the door.

She called out to him just before he slipped outside. "Bobby?"

The mechanic turned back towards her, his face softening. "Yeah kiddo?"

"Just in case something happens," she began, "can you tell my broth..."

Bobby raised his hand and cut her off. "We don't do 'just in case' death speeches in this family, Lex," he told her. "I ain't tellin' your brother nothin' 'cause you're gonna tell him yerself as soon as we kill this bastard, got it?"

She chuckled nervously but nodded her head. "'Kay."

"We'll be right here, Lex," he added, his tone full of genuine concern. "This'll work out fine, I promise. Now," he grinned, "you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she smiled back

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap: I know there wasn't much excitement in this chapter but hopefully the next one will make up for it as Ivan and Red-Eyes make appearances..._


	28. A Rat

**Chapter 28 – A Rat**

The two men waited in the concealed Bronco until Ivan and the girl went inside the barn before jumping out and dashing up to the large wooden door. They flattened themselves against the wood on either side and listened closely. The door had been left ajar and voices drifted out of the unlit barn.

"So do we just wait here until they get back then?" the girl was asking Ivan.

"Yeah, baby," he replied sweetly. "Are you hungry? I can go get you someone to eat."

Well that at least confirmed the girl was a vampire and therefore, fair game. Most likely this was Vicky, Ivan's supposed girlfriend, or in vampire-speak, his mate.

"I smell someone," she said abruptly. "Ivey, someone's here!"

Sam looked sharply at Josh and wagged an eyebrow, hoping the blond man would guess that in Winchester speak, that meant _'we go on three'_.

On his third nod, he turned and kicked the door in with Josh just an instant behind him, having assumed the plan was a one-two-three-then-go.

Ivan spun to face them as they entered, his arm splaying out protectively in front of the girl he was quickly pushing behind him. Sam didn't think that he'd had time to recognize either of his attackers but it was clear the vampire saw the machetes in their hands for he reacted quickly, reaching for something in his waistband.

Sam didn't slow down and was already lunging at him with the large blade raised up over his head by the time Ivan got the gun drawn. Having not expected a gun to enter the equation, the hunter realized belatedly that charging with his arms up had left him completely exposed and he would never be able to dodge the bullet when the vampire fired. He braced himself for the imminent pain and tried to throw himself as far sideways as he could, knowing it wouldn't be anywhere near far enough.

The shot rang out. In fact, two shots rang out. Then a third and a fourth and a fifth until Sam lost count. He landed on the barn floor with a heavy thud, rolling to absorb the impact from his shoulder. Coming to a stop on his back he clutched quickly at his stomach, searching frantically for the bullet wound and wondering how long it would be before the pain hit him because, so far, he hadn't felt a thing. It had taken a few seconds for the searing pain to register when Bela had shot him. He came to the realization that he hadn't been shot at all at the exact same moment his eyes focused back on the other figures in the room.

Ivan was still on his feet, convulsing slightly and clutching his chest but his gun skittered across the floor towards Sam. One arm was raised protectively in front of his face and he managed a forced step forward, directly into the onslaught of bullets that were being fired at him. Josh was standing ten feet away from the vampire with his Desert Eagle aimed steadily at the teenager's chest. Chunks of flesh and spurts of blood were bouncing from Ivan's body where the bullets were impacting but they didn't seem to be doing any permanent damage. Josh kept shooting but just as Sam grabbed Ivan's lost gun and planted his palm on the barn floor to push himself up, the Eagle clicked empty.

Ivan lowered his arm and shot a glare of pure hatred at Josh, who swiftly ditched his gun behind him and switched the machete back to his right hand.

"You!" Ivan spat at Josh. "I remember you!" With that he charged him, as insane as that seemed considering Josh had a machete ready to swing.

Josh did swing it, cutting a fast sideways arc through the air at neck level but Ivan was somehow faster and knocked it off course as he spun and landed a backhanded fist in the blond man's gut. Josh bent forward to absorb the impact and staggered a few feet backwards out of Ivan's reach until he could recoil the machete for another swing. Ivan danced backwards also, taking up his defensive position in front of the girl again.

Sam was on his feet by now and he dashed over to stand alongside Josh, tucking Ivan's gun into the back of his pants and readying his own machete. "Thanks," he acknowledged the save with a grateful nod to his fellow hunter. Ivan narrowed his eyes and adopted an almost predatory stance as he stood a few paces away, eyeing them with what could only be described as hunger.

"Well well," he purred with the arrogant air Sam remembered from the first time they had met while he was tied to a post in Ella's grandmother's barn. "Hello Samuel." The vampire tilted his head sideways to address the girl behind him. "This, my dear, is Samuel Winchester. What a most fortuitous coincidence."

"Coincidence?" Josh snickered, waving his machete. "I'll say. Two machetes and two vampire heads."

Ivan glared at him. "Then I would deduce the odds are in my favour. Didn't you learn your lesson last time we met, fool?"

Sam hoped Ivan wasn't about to spill any details about Colby's death, not really wanting Josh to bear any guilt for his friend's sacrifice. He knew too well what a heavy burden being the cause of someone's death could be, however unintentional.

"You and I have some unfinished business, hunter," Ivan continued, still eyeing Josh.

"I agree. Let's finish it then."

Ivan didn't look particularly scared, which was a bit disconcerting, but Josh decided he'd had enough of the small talk and lunged at him with his machete. The impossibly fast vamp dodged his swing for the second time but found Sam's blade following closely behind it, swinging downwards to greet him. The Winchester's machete sliced a shallow cut in the vamp's shoulder but it would seem the demon-tainted drink of blood Ivan had taken from Sam a few days ago had given him enhanced speed as well as increased strength because he danced away almost unscathed.

Before Sam could pull in his arm from its extended position he was bowled over by a tiny blonde figure in a floral pattern dress. Vicky screeched as she flung herself at him, knocking the weapon from his hand and flashing her extra set of razor sharp teeth as she latched on. The impact knocked the much larger hunter to the ground and he quickly rolled onto his back and threw his hands up to shield himself from the frenzied attack. She was deceptively strong for her diminutive stature and was clawing madly at his forearms as she straddled him on the barn floor. He felt the sharp sting of four parallel claw marks as her razor sharp nails got past his defenses and scratched their way down his cheek.

Sam got a muscular arm across in front of her and pushed her roughly sideways, shoving her off him as best as he could. He rolled onto his hip in an attempt to quickly get his feet back under him before she righted herself but was rewarded with a sandaled foot in his face.

"Ow! Bitch!" he cursed, glad for once his brother wasn't here to see him getting bested by a ninety pound girl. It was usually Dean who somehow got stuck fighting the monsters that came in the form of pretty young girls or tiny old ladies, a fact that had earned the elder Winchester a great deal of ribbing from his younger sibling over the years.

Sam grabbed the girl's ankle and twisted, yanking her forcefully off to the side so he could at least get to his knees and regain the height advantage. As he did so, he looked over to see Ivan somehow escape another swing of Josh's machete and land a fist in the blond man's chest so hard he sailed through the air for fifteen feet before coming to a crashing stop against the wall of the barn and sinking downwards.

_Oh crap,_ Sam thought. _How the Hell does this guy move so fast? Why didn't Sam's blood let __Sam__ move that fast?_

He caught Ivan's eye as he sprung to his feet and lunged forward to grab his dropped machete from the floor before Ivan could head over and finish Josh off. But just before he curled his fingers around its hilt, he glanced up to see the superstrong vampire's fist making contact with his face. He was slammed back down on the hard floor, blood streaming from his nose even faster than the wind was escaping his lungs.

"There you go, darling," he heard Ivan say magnanimously. "Take a drink."

Sam fought to clear his spinning head and fuzzy vision resulting from Ivan's vicious headshot. The vampire's words were still muffled but his next comment struck a jolt of renewed fear through the hunter.

"I'll just put this other one out of his misery, baby, and I'll be right back."

Years of practice involving countless instances of life and death urgency enabled Sam to force himself upright despite being winded and disoriented. Josh had hit that wall hard and Sam wasn't sure if his friend was even conscious to defend himself against Ivan so he desperately needed to get on his feet fast. He found out right away that wasn't going to be easy. He had only made it up onto his knees when tiny arms suddenly slid around him from behind, yanking him backwards as Vicky's legs wrapped themselves like vice grips around his waist. He was reaching up to grab her wrists and pry her off of him when her teeth sank painfully into his neck.

He yelled and cursed, thrashing backwards in an effort to dislodge the tiny girl but to no avail. The harder he punched her and pulled at her hair, the deeper her teeth sank into his neck. He could feel her drawing blood now and felt a panic rising within him. The last thing they needed was two super-charged vampires on the loose.

He forced his feet underneath him and pushed up, still pulling at her head as she continued feeding, the slurpy sucking noises making his stomach churn as much as the feel of his blood being drawn from his body. She clung to him with the tenacity of an eight-second rodeo champion and he stepped over to the wall, ramming his back against it as hard as he could, squeezing her in between him and the boards. He repeated the process three times, each harder than the last, until her mouth released his neck and she let out a pained cry. He reached around and grabbed her head with his huge hands, pulling her up and over his shoulders and slamming her down on the ground in front of him. He started kicking furiously and spared a glance upwards to check on Josh.

His friend was awake, thankfully or he surely would have been dead already, but he was on the defensive as the powerful vampire lunged at him repeatedly. He managed to dodge a series of angry punches from Ivan and had miraculously managed to keep hold of his machete despite being thrown across the room. Right now, that blade was the only thing keeping Ivan at arm's length. Sam decided Ivan was a bigger threat to Josh at this instant than Vicky was to him so he stepped over her, grabbed up his own machete, and charged across the barn towards the other fight.

Ivan landed a hard blow to Josh's face just as Sam reached them. Josh fell back, crashing through the rotten wood of an empty stall door and hitting the ground hard. Sam lunged and took a swing at Ivan before he could get on top of Josh and finish the downed man off. Ivan ducked incredibly low with almost dizzying speed and the blade passed just over his head. He popped up again just as fast, reminding Sam of those frigging gophers in Dean's favourite Arcade game, and slammed his fist into Sam's chest.

This time it was Sam's turn to go flying and he found himself landing on top of a very angry and squirmy blonde. He rolled off her just in time to escape the set of protruding teeth that had been aiming for his exposed forearm. She jumped up and came at him as he too clambered to his feet. He lashed out and struck her with a vicious right hook, knocking her back to the ground. She sprang up again suspiciously swiftly and Sam started to worry that she too had been strengthened by drinking his blood.

He decided he couldn't afford to wait and find out. He scooped up the machete and took an abrupt step forward, grabbing her hair to hold her up as he swung. The blade made contact, slicing neatly through her tiny neck. He held onto the blonde locks as the body dropped to the floor, blood literally spurting from the open neck like a scene out of True Blood. A wave of satisfaction and excitement swept through him at the hard-earned kill and he glanced over hoping to find Josh was still alive.

Surprisingly, he was, but again things didn't look promising for him. Sam's brief distraction had at least allowed the blond man to get back on his feet, still gripping the machete. He had charged the vampire again with determination, even if it was clear he was outmatched. Ivan, on the other hand, seemed to be getting frustrated that he just couldn't get the better of these two inferior beings. The vampire let out a loud cry of rage when one of Josh's swings nicked his cheek and started punching wildly, throwing himself into Josh's personal space, too close for the machete to strike. He pummeled the blond man repeatedly in the gut and drove him back against a timber post.

Sam looked over at precisely that moment, just in time to see Josh, who somehow still hadn't let go of that damn machete, slip it in between his and Ivan's chests while receiving a hard shot to the face. He rammed it hard up into the vampire's throat, just in the crook of his chin. Ivan stopped swinging and let out a gargled squeal, stepping back and grabbing at his neck. The machete dropped to the ground and he turned away from Josh, his eyes wide with pain.

Sam recognized the instant the vampire saw Vicky. Or rather, her lifeless head still held in Sam's fist. Unable to stop himself, he raised it up for Ivan to get a better look, a gloating smirk on his face. The vampire had stopped short, his look of fear turning into one of sheer horror and devastation. Sam realized suddenly the vampire looked genuinely heartbroken and for a fleeting moment, almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"No," Ivan rasped, frozen in place, the word sounding wet and gargled. Sam watched as if in slow motion as a battered and beaten Josh pushed himself away from the post, picked up the machete, and swung it in a wide, smooth arc that sliced through Ivan's neck like butter. The vampire's head almost seemed to teeter for a moment before falling sideways, racing his body to the ground.

"That's for Colby you asshole," Josh panted, leaning back against the timber post once more.

Both men had bloody faces with masses of bruises sure to follow. Sam's chest was still heaving from the exertion of the fight as he tossed the blonde's head on the ground next to her tiny body. "Holy crap," he said, letting out an adrenaline-induced chuckle at the insanity of the last two minutes. He jerked his chin at Ivan's body.

"Revenge," he said simply. "Feels good, huh?"

Josh didn't return the laugh, instead giving Sam a one-shouldered shrug. "Doesn't bring Colby back, does it?" he said solemnly.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Alex waited for the triple thump on the roof to indicate Bobby was ready before stepping into the triangular trap in the middle of the church. She started reading Latin verses from a paper the linguistically well-versed mechanic had written out for her. It was a similar summoning incantation to the one Josh had used the very first time they'd tried to summon Red-Eyes to kill him, the night he had instead killed her parents, but Bobby had made a few revisions to better ensure that the half-breed demi-god would appear within the trap where she was standing and not just anywhere in the room. She would, of course, sense him coming and step out just before he got there.

The thirty seconds it took him to appear on her radar seemed like a lot longer. It started the same as it had every day for months in Oceanview and for a split second, it was as if she'd never left that hellhole. She swallowed the familiar fear and dread as the pain sliced slowly back and forth through her skull, getting stronger as she kept reading. She sped up the last few lines, wanting to make sure the recital was finished before she stepped out of the trap but knowing he would appear at any second.

She blurted out the last line and practically jumped over the line of salt mixed with gofer dust, feeling rather than seeing him behind her. She spun around to see what was going on to find him there already, flickering in and out of visibility. "He's here!" she yelled out the front door to Dean. She heard him relaying the information to Bobby on the roof and heard the closest of the fires outside roar into life as she ran over to the second set of markings they had drawn on the floor with chalk that were needed for the anti-regeneration spell. She glanced back up to see if Red-Eyes was in solid form yet, hoping Dean and Bobby were working quickly, and was relieved to see he was still semi-transparent. Familiar terror pierced its way through her heart when she caught his eye and realized he was staring right at her.

"Dearie," he chided in his arrogant, gravelly voice, shaking his head. "I must say, this is a pleasant supr…" He stopped as Dean barged in through the main door, flaming torch in hand.

"Dean, what are you…" It was Alex's turn to get cut off now as the hunter only spared a cursory glance towards the triangular trap in the room's center before marching around it and stepping into the smaller set of markings with her.

"Don't argue," he commanded. "Just do the spell."

He had expected a bit of an argument but instead she simply clenched her jaw and started reading from the second sheet of Latin in her hand. She was on her knees in the circle and ignored Dean standing over her until she finished the recital and started putting the herbs in the cauldron as Bobby had instructed her. At that point she glared up at the hunter, who was staring at the Divajhian Trap.

"You sure he's here?" Dean asked, looking right through Red-Eyes.

"You can't see him?" she asked, surprise briefly outweighing her anger. He was standing _right there_.

Dean glanced down at her in slight confusion at the revelation. "Won't matter," he shrugged, gripping his large, wooden stake tightly. _Crap, how was he supposed to stake the bastard if he couldn't see him?_

"What are you doing in here?" Alex hissed, not stopping stirring the ingredients in the silver bowl as she spoke. "You promised."

"I promised I'd kill him for you, remember?" Dean argued back. "Bobby's got the fires, don't worry; this douche isn't going anywhere." His eyes were still scanning the middle of the room, clearly not seeing the tall, dark, imposing figure with the glowing red eyes that she was.

"How can you kill him if you can't see him?" she snapped, determined not to let Dean anywhere near Red-Eyes. Dean threw her a cocky grin and she found herself almost daring to believe in him.

"Let me help you with that problem, fool," Red-Eyes offered, his deep voice still calm but with a definite underlying tone of menace.

Alex could tell from Dean's quick turn of the head that he had definitely heard Red-Eyes this time and from the man's reaction, knew that he could now see him also. The hunter stiffened, his whole body tensing and shifting into a more predatory stance as he stared directly at her living nightmare. She finished what she was doing with the spell and rose to her feet next to him.

"Okay," Dean mumbled to her quietly. "Lemme take the lead, you just get behind him and jab quick like I told you if you get a clear opening."

"No!" she grabbed his arm. "Please just get outside. I got this." She tried one last attempt at getting the stubborn, impetuous hunter to back off and let her do this, already knowing it wouldn't work. "Dean, please!"

"Sorry Lex." He shook free and started walking towards Red-Eyes, who was standing with his arms folded, not looking worried at all.

Alex grabbed a stake of her own, pleading with whatever powers that be that the trap held. If it didn't… She shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts.

_If it didn't, Dean would die. _

On the outside, Dean was the perfect image of calm, cool, and confident. Inside, however, he was more than a bit riled by the fierce looking monster in the trap who was staring at him with those super-creepy red eyes. The fugly was pretty big, as Alex had described, and had a shadowy thing going on. He wasn't fully corporeal and shimmered slightly as he stood in the center of the trap. Dean knew he'd have to wait until Red-Eyes turned solid, which he would when he tried to physically strike out at the hunter, before the stake would do any damage. Getting Red-Eyes to lash out at him shouldn't be too hard, after all, Dean was known to be a cocky smartass that seemed to rub all manner of supernatural creatures the wrong way.

The hunter was at least moderately confident that the trap was working because he figured otherwise, the bastard wouldn't be just standing there. The trap was clearly blocking Red-Eyes' mojo crap. That bode well for Bobby's plan so far. Now if he could just figure out how to stick the prick with the stake, this would be a done deal.

That was, of course, when Bobby's well thought out plan went to pot.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam glanced over at Josh, an eyebrow raised as they climbed back in the Bronco. "You're getting' pretty good at the Bruce Willis thing," he commented. "Two vampires, two machetes?"

Josh grinned. "Been spending too much time with that brother of yours."

"He does manage to liven things up, doesn't he?" Sam laughed. Dean's inappropriate sense of humour could be damn annoying and his smart mouth was surely going to be the death of one, if not both Winchesters, but it was one of the things he loved the most about his brother. It was one of the things he _missed_ the most about his brother. Dean wasn't able to laugh off as much as he used to. He put on a good show with Josh around but Sam could see how forced Dean's bravado was now, how much his fear and pain was smothering it like a wet blanket.

Of course, now that Sam knew how to kill Lillith, this Apocalypse thing would be over soon enough and Dean could go back to at least pretending he was happy and carefree.

"So is he coming back to Denver?" Josh asked, snapping Sam out of his thoughts.

"Uh, no," he admitted, having not really given it much thought up to this point. "I should probably hitch my way to Bobby's to meet him.

Josh shook his head. "Nah, man. I'll drive you."

"No need," Sam assured him quickly. "I'm a big boy, Josh. I can hitchhike across one state without getting into too much trouble."

Josh laughed. "I doubt you or Dean could do much of anything without getting into too much trouble," he joked before his face grew serious again. "Is Lex there?" he asked Sam, turning to study the younger man's face as he answered.

"At Bobby's?" Sam bluffed seamlessly. "No, man. Besides, Dean met Bobby in a town a ways away from his place. To help him with a hunt, that's all."

Josh wasn't convinced. "Where about?"

"Java," Sam answered, figuring no harm could come of admitting that much.

"So Lex isn't in Sioux Falls?"

Sam hid his surprise that Josh knew what town Bobby lived in and started to wonder what he or Dean could have let slip. "No. Why would you think she is?"

Josh shrugged. "If she isn't there then you won't mind if I give you a ride there now, will you?"

"Uh, sure," Sam conceded, figuring he would plenty of time to sneak a quick text to Bobby and warn him they were on their way so Alex could split if she still wanted to. Besides, Sam had done the math. It was an eight hour drive to Bobby's and Dean had a three hour head start and would be in Java in six hours so Red-Eyes would probably be dead in six and a half. So showing up with Josh right after that might just work out to be perfect timing after all.

Just in case, he decided to try one last ploy. "Don't you have to be in California to meet your parole officer soon?" he pointed out.

Josh shrugged. "I got a couple of days yet." Finding his sister was more important and the Winchesters weren't as good liars as they thought they were. He wasn't going to let them take off until he had his sister back.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

A rat.

It was all because of a rat. Not even a big city rat or one of those gigantic sewer rats. A medium sized country rat. Dean knew there had always been a reason he hated rats and now he knew exactly what that was. They could take a well thought out plan and totally fuck it up.

This medium sized country rat chose the least opportune moment possible to scurry across the room, running over one line of salt and gofer dust that made up the Divajhian trap and heading straight for the second one in its haste to get back to the shelter of the shadows. Red-Eyes, who until that point had been standing still, lunged at it the instant it reached the second line. It squeaked in terror and fell over in fright, its tiny body skidding across the line, smearing the salt just enough to create a break in the trap.

Dean's head snapped upwards and he stopped in his tracks, his hand splaying out behind him to stop Alex in an instinctive motion intended for his brother, who was usually standing with him when a fight was imminent. He heard her slight gasp and knew she too had seen the tables turn.

A slow grin spread over Red-Eyes's face and he stepped gloatingly over the line towards the frozen pair. Before Dean could react, the dark figure flung an arm out sideways and the hunter felt himself go flying through the air. He remembered Alex telling them the prick could do 'that demon thing' and that fact was demonstrated to him with crystal fucking clarity when he landed with a solid smack against the hard, stone wall. Winded and in pain, he fell to the floor at its base, scrambling to both get back on his feet and turn to see what was going on behind him.

His head twisted in time to see a now-solid and fully corporeal Red-Eyes lunging for Alex. She was on her ass on the floor, having been knocked down by the same demon-like mojo that had thrown him across the room. It was also evident that Red-Eyes had no interest in Dean whatsoever for he ignored the hunter as he wrapped his gnarled claw-like hand around Alex's neck and yanked her to her feet. She tried desperately to stab him with the wooden stake in her hand but her much stronger opponent simply knocked it out of her grasp. He twisted her around and pinned both her arms behind her back with one large hand, pulling her head back roughly by the hair with the other as he spoke in her ear.

"Dearie," he purred. "This was not very wise of you. You know you shouldn't make me mad."

He surveyed the room, clearly taking note of the weapons and the trap on the floor. His red eyes narrowed and he kicked at the lines nearest his feet before turning and heading towards the door ten feet away that led to the back room of the church. Dean guessed Red-Eyes wanted to distance himself from the potentially dangerous remnants of the trap and struggled to get to his feet, determined not to let the bastard go anywhere with Alex in his grasp.

Red-Eyes ignored Dean, who was pushing himself up the wall off to the side, and dragged the blonde through to the other room. Dean heard footsteps at the door behind him and guessed it was Bobby making his way into the church but didn't turn around to check as he launched himself at the solid wooden door that was closing behind Red-Eyes and his prisoner.

He dove through just as the door slammed shut behind him, rolling to a stop on the hard, stone floor. He could hear Alex yelling "No! Don't! Don't!" and struggled to right himself so he could see what the son of a bitch was doing to her but realized belatedly when he caught her eye that she had been yelling at him, not Red-Eyes.

He didn't really have time to contemplate the cleverness of his decision or to regret it. He rolled onto his knees and saw Red-Eyes toss a wide-eyed Alex aside like a discarded toy before shimmering again into shadow form and raising an arm in his direction.

He felt himself being slammed back-first against a stone wall and then suddenly he was back in Hell. Again. He knew that's where he was because his body was being ravaged by Hellpain. Dean had experienced all sorts of pain in his life but nothing compared to Hellpain. It was complete, all-encompassing, and reached every single fibre of his body all at once. He managed a fleeting thought of pity for Alex being subjected to this kind of pain her whole life and was briefly sickened by his failure to stop it before all cognitive thought was wiped away in another wave of intense agony that ripped through him.

He had no idea how long it lasted. The burning, searing pain ripped through him up and down in relentless waves before suddenly subsiding. He felt himself fall to the ground and realized it hadn't been Hellpain after all because Hellpain never ended. It never stopped and it never let up. He gasped for air and fought waves of disorientation, trying to regain control of his senses. He could hear voices and felt a strong grip wrap itself around his throat, lifting him off his feet against a cold, hard surface, cutting off his ability to breathe.

Still unable to see, the voices finally became distinguishable. He heard Red-Eyes first, who spoke with an unmistakably mocking tone. "Bland," he laughed. "Like English cooking."

Then there was another voice and it was yelling, pleading even. It was Alex.

"No! Dean!" she screamed. "Please! Please don't! I'll do whatever you want, just don't! I'll stay put. I'll stop running. I swear, I'll never run again, just please, please don't kill him! You can come whenever you want, I won't hide! I promise! PLEASE!"

Enough lucidity had set in that Dean knew he had to stop her from making that huge mistake. Stop running? Let this bastard hurt her whenever it wanted? She would do no such thing. _Not on his account__._ He struggled feebly against the restraint on his neck, still unable to gain enough coordination or might to open his eyes. He could feel rather than see Alex tugging at the supernaturally strong arm that had him pinned but it was clear they were both outmatched. He was running out of air and his already light head was becoming even lighter.

"You don't want to kill him!" Alex was still arguing, her voice vibrating with desperation and hitching in fear. "Trust me, Cas'll kill you! Castiel...The angels need him, they'll kill you if you hurt him! You don't want the angels coming after you, do you? You can't kill him!"

Dean cursed inwardly. _Shut up Lex,_ he pleaded. _Don't tell him about the angels._ _Don't tell this thing who he was – that never helped the situation. Ever!_

The grip loosened ever so slightly. "Dean," Red-Eyes said slowly, "Dean _**Winchester**__?"_

"Yes, yes," he heard Alex gasping. "You don't want to kill him. You don't."

Dean's vision was slowly returning as the gnarled hand released some more of the pressure on his neck. He gained enough coordination to grasp at the curled fingers of steel, trying in vain to pry them looser. He focused sufficiently to see Alex standing next to Red-Eyes, the large hand that wasn't strangling Dean wrapped tightly in her long hair, effectively holding her in place just out of reach from the hunter. There was a trickle of blood down the side of her face.

"Well," Red-Eyes looked thoughtful. "I do make a point to stay out of politics." With that he pulled Dean forward a few inches before slamming him back against the church wall, the hunter's head smacking the stone with a slight crack. Alex watched in horror as Dean's hazel eyes rolled back into his head, only the whites showing as the long lashes floated closed and his body slumped to the ground.

Red-Eyes let go of her hair with a violent shove, knocking her to the floor ten feet away against the wall. She sucked in breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and glanced over to see Dean's unconscious chest heaving slowly. _He was alive_.

She turned back to face Red-Eyes, trying desperately to think clearly, to see if she had any more options to fight. He had felt one of the concealed stakes in her jacket as he manhandled her into the room and had ripped the jacket off her before tossing her aside when Dean had rolled in like a friggin' G.I Joe commando. He had crushed both stakes into tiny splinters with some form of mojo right before going back into shadow mode to pin Dean against the wall and douse him with the indescribable blood-boiling pain she had experienced so many times throughout her life.

She had no options, no more weapons. She was suddenly aware of a pounding on the solid door that sounded suspiciously like a machete or a tire iron and renewed fear struck her. _Oh Jesus, Red-Eyes was going to go after Bobby next._

So she gave in. She found herself at his mercy again, like she had every single time he'd visited her since she was five years old. Helpless again. His fucking chew toy. She lowered her head and bi back a sob, deciding to let him get it over with as quickly as possible so that hopefully he would have his fill and leave before Bobby made it through that door and got himself killed. Luckily, it was a very solid door. Maybe the stocky mechanic stood a chance.

Red-Eyes looked at her and sighed, giving her a disapproving frown. "Tsk, tsk," he shook his head. "You are quickly becoming more trouble than you're worth. You think you're the only tasty meal in town? Get over yourself, Dearie," he seethed. "I don't need you."

"So why don't you just kill me then?" she spat tiredly, not bothering to get on her feet. There was no point in fighting; he was going to do what he wanted anyway.

"I like variety," he grinned a malicious grin at her, his pointed teeth gleaming in the dim light of the fire out the small window. With that he shimmered, his corporeality waning as he once again took on his shadowy form. Alex groaned, bracing herself for the inevitable pain.

It came in the form of an intense pressure, sending her reeling up and backwards against the wall behind her. Every inch of her body screamed out in agony as it felt like each small piece was being individually crushed brutally in a merciless vice grip. The pain was so intense she couldn't scream, couldn't breathe, and couldn't think beyond its excruciating waves ripping through her. It seemed to last forever but it could have been mere seconds, she could never tell. At last it subsided, as it always did eventually, and she fell forward to the ground, landing on her knees, gasping for air and trying to regain her bearings.

She knew there was a second round coming. There always was. Still on her hands and knees, she tried to brace herself, knowing there really wasn't any way to prepare for that kind of onslaught. She was still gasping and wheezing when she felt something solid touch her hand. She managed to turn her head enough to see a brown boot with a frayed jeans hemline planting itself between her and Red-Eyes and she heard a familiar, deep voice from above her.

"Pick on someone your own size you sick son of a bitch."

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Next chap: I'm gonna let it be a surprise. Thanks everyone for the reviews and the encouragement on this story. It really means a lot! :)_


	29. How Unfortunate For You

_Alex managed to turn her head enough to see a brown boot with a frayed jeans hemline planting itself between her and Red-Eyes and she heard a familiar, deep voice from above her._

_"Pick on someone your own size you sick son of a bitch."_

**Chapter 29 – How Unfortunate For You**

_He was insane. The guy was completely insane_.

Still unable to pull herself up on her feet, Alex remained on her knees, swatting feebly at the jean-clad leg in front of her.

_Jesus, Dean, don't be so stupid. You're going to get yourself killed. _The horrifying vision of her parents both lying dead on the living room floor flashed through her mind.

Dean stood firmly over her, squaring his shoulders against the dark, shimmering figure standing a few feet away. His hand reached behind him and gently pushed her head back, ignoring her breathless warning of "Dean, don't!"

He was going on instinct, doing what came naturally. He didn't overthink the situation or assess his chances of successfully stopping an insanely strong demi-god with demon mojo powers. All he saw was someone he cared about getting hurt and impulsively did whatever he could to stop it. Right now the only weapon he had was his bulk so that was what he placed between Alex and the threat.

Red-Eyes curled his lip at Dean and let out an incensed growl but didn't make a move against him. Dean took advantage of the creature's inaction to pull himself together as much as he could, trying to even out his ragged breathing and stop his head from spinning. He became aware of a steady pounding on the door and surmised that was Bobby out in the main hall trying to get in and hoped to God the mechanic wasn't successful. He could hear Alex pushing herself up the wall behind him and felt her fingers curl around his bicep when she reached her feet. He noticed the red, glowing eyes shifting from him to the girl and he subtly nudged his elbow higher to keep her behind him.

"Why do you gotta be such a dick anyways?" he goaded Red-Eyes, using his usual tactic of being a smartass to divert the fugly's attention back to him. "What, mommy didn't hug you enough?"

"You seem to be keeping some undesirable company these days, dearie," Red-Eyes addressed Alex directly. "How unfortunate for you."

"Now see, I would say that's unfortunate for _you_," Dean fired back.

Alex wondered if the hunter was even aware of the absurdity of his threat but at the same time, marveled at how convincing he managed to make it sound. And she couldn't deny Red-Eyes was definitely holding back. As much as she was sure Dean would like to think it was his bravado, she was fairly certain it had been the mention of angels that had spooked him.

Red-Eyes continued to ignore Dean, speaking again to the girl behind him. "Congratulations," he hissed, "you've just deemed yourself more trouble than you're worth."

Dean heard a sharp intake of breath from Alex and thought perhaps she was interpreting those words as he was going to leave her alone from now on. He had a sneaky suspicion that wasn't the case and was proven right by the cold words spoken next.

"We'll meet again soon, don't you worry," Red-Eyes warned icily. "When your hunter friend here," he threw an angry glare at Dean, "and his loathsome winged companions aren't in the way." He looked back to Alex. "And you can be sure I'll make it count because it will be the Last. Time. We. Meet."

His point was clear.

The heavy silence that hung in the air as Alex and Dean both absorbed the threat was broken by a loud crack, the hook of Bobby's tire iron finally making an appearance through the thick hardwood of the door. Still in his partially non-corporeal form, Red-Eyes raised his arm towards the door and let out an irritated snarl.

"No!" Alex yelped in panic, lunging forward only to find herself stopped by Dean's rock solid forearm. They heard a grunt followed by a series of chilling thuds on the other side of the door. She clamped her hand over her mouth in horror and felt Dean's back and shoulders tense up as his fists clenched in rage and worry.

Dean knew launching a futile assault on a phased-out demi-god wasn't going to help Bobby. In fact, it could end up inciting further attacks on the mechanic and possibly Alex also. It seemed Red-Eyes wasn't going to risk the wrath of Heaven's Army by killing the so-called 'Righteous Man' so Dean deduced the best move right now was to stand his ground until the twisted S.O.B. decided to call it a day and leave. Hopefully quietly and hopefully soon.

Well, one out of two ain't bad.

Red-Eyes wasn't going to leave without saying good-bye. He turned back towards them and solidified with a single flicker. In three strides he was upon them and he backhanded Dean in the jaw before the hunter could even react, sending him reeling ten feet sideways and crashing down onto the hard, stone floor.

The hunter ignored the jarring spikes of pain shooting through his back and shoulders as best as he could, rolling onto his side as he struggled for breath and planted his palm on the ground to steady himself. He looked up to see the menacing demi-god standing inches from Alex, his hand now around her throat. She was a tall girl but the dark, imposing figure made her seem tiny as he pressed her against the wall. His head was bent forward and he was muttering something in her ear as she tried in vain to push him away. With what came out as a cross between a cry of warning and an animalistic growl, Dean forced himself to his feet and managed a stiff step towards the pair. Before he could get any closer, however, Red-Eyes turned to face him, his creepy eyes flashing brighter and a nasty grin crossing his face before he flickered once, twice, then vanished.

Dean stopped short, taken aback by the sudden disappearance of the threat. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and his mouth slowly pulled into a lopsided smirk of both disbelief and relief. He heard a rattle at the door behind him and twisted around to see a rough, familiar hand reaching through the splintered hole.

"Dean?" the mechanic called gruffly, his voice muffled as he grabbed blindly at the lock. "Everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Dean called back, chuckling with incredulity that they had all somehow survived. He turned back to Alex, about to make a cocky remark about Red-Eyes tucking tail and running but stopped short, the smile wiped off his face at the sight of the blonde.

She had been leaning her back against the wall and slid now down until she was sitting on the ground, her hands coming up to cover her face.

"Lex, you okay?" he asked worriedly, thinking she must be hurt.

Getting no response, he squatted down in front of her, his hand reaching out to tap her knee just below where her forehead was now resting. "Are you hurt?" he asked gently.

She shook her head without looking up and Dean felt a fool. He didn't know why he had expected her to laugh it off with him. Sometimes he forgot that Winchesters weren't normal people with normal reactions. She had handled dicey situations pretty well on the two hunts he'd worked with her before, but this was Red-Eyes. Dean remembered something Josh had said a few days ago.

_No matter what she does, what she tries, no matter how hard she fights back, that red-eyed bastard always manages to come out on top. She always ends up helpless against him._

He had just experienced firsthand how easily her tormentor had turned them both from hunters into prey and it occurred to him how true those words were. And after getting a taste of the pain he could dish out, Dean could see how there was nothing funny about a lifetime of being chased by that brute and being completely at his mercy. "Lex, he's gone," he said trying to sound encouraging. "Tucked tail and split. We got him running now."

She looked up briefly and he couldn't miss the tears welling in her bottom eyelid. "He'll be back," she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.

He could see she was trying to hold it together but knew already she wasn't going to be successful. He briefly debated backing off and deferring to Bobby, who he could hear still working the damaged deadbolt open behind him. After all, she seemed to have developed a fondness for the older mechanic in the six weeks she'd been staying with him and the antisocial old coot had an obvious soft spot for her too.

Instead Dean sighed and twisted himself around, shifting his weight so he was sitting on the floor next to her with his back against the wall also.

"And when he shows, we'll take him out," he said confidently. "We know how to do it now. We'll just pick a venue with no rats next time, huh?" He gave her an almost playful shoulder nudge.

Too soon. He didn't get the reaction he had hoped for with his attempt at levity. Instead she buried her head back in her knees and her shoulders started shaking. Dean let his natural instincts and years of comforting Sammy in childhood influence him and swung an arm immediately around her shoulders, pulling her head onto his chest. He half expected her to fight him but she didn't, instead sagging into him and allowing the tears to fall freely as she buried her face in his shirt, her body heaving with silent sobs.

Bobby finally made it through the door but stopped short, giving the pair a concerned look. Dean offered his old friend a subtle '_it's alright, I got it_' wave and Bobby nodded his approval before slipping back out into the main hall, noticeably favouring his left side.

Dean didn't say anything at first, figuring Alex just needed to get it out of her system and she would talk when she was ready. He straightened out his knees, reaching over and gently pulling her legs over his so he could hold her closer. She curled into him and he leaned back against the wall, mildly surprised at his own lack of discomfort at her emotional outpour. Normally he would have found this level of intimacy and free-flowing feelings incredibly uncomfortable but with her...

He pulled her tighter and pressed his cheek against her head. Eventually the tears slowed down and he could feel her wet eyelashes fluttering against his neck as the heaving subsided a little. He peered down at her but couldn't quite see her face when she spoke.

"Fuck," was all she said, her voice strained and breathy.

Dean let out a single huff of laughter. "Yeah, that about sums it up," he acknowledged. "It got a little hairy for a sec there."

"Hairy?" she retorted, her voice muffled as her face was still buried in his shirt. "God, Dean, you and Bobby…" Her voice hitched and a wracking sob interrupted her. It was another minute or so before she was able to continue and Dean just held her patiently.

"I'm sorry," she managed eventually. "I almost got you guys killed. He's gonna…" she cut herself off again, her grip on his shirt tightening. The next sentences were spoken through broken sobs and despairing hitches in her breath. "God, I don't want anyone else to die … I'm so tired of waiting for it to happen again … fuck, he should have just killed me years ago …"

Dean interrupted her at that point. "Hey, don't say that," he said firmly, planting a hand on each side of her face and tilting her head up to face him. "Don't ever say that, okay? Don't even think it."

He waited for her to look him in the eye and nod before letting her go. She sniffed but otherwise remained silent, averting her eyes in shame at her spontaneous over-sharing. She settled in again against his chest and concentrated on evening her breath out and pulling herself together. She tried to muster the effort to drag her game face back on and pull away but decided instead to just swallow her pride and enjoy the comforting moment. It was nice to be held, to have strong reassuring arms around her, even if they were Dean's and came with eight tons of baggage for her. Well, maybe it was especially because they were Dean's...

They stayed as they were for a long few minutes in silence, neither daring to say anything for fear the wrong words came out and neither wanting to end the closeness and the physical contact. The longer he held her, the more Dean's guilt gnawed at his insides. He saved strangers all the time, countless people over his hunting lifetime. Why couldn't he seem to save the people that mattered the most to him?

Finally, Alex gathered her wits enough to figure she should probably let the poor guy off the hook with the colossal 'chick-flick moment' she was putting him through. Still not really wanting to draw back though, she stayed curled up with her head still on his chest and struck up a random conversation as a distraction.

"So turns out I met your Dad before," she stated quietly.

She felt Dean's chest heave with a silent chuckle and his muscles relax around her.

"Yeah, Bobby told me," he admitted, a bit surprised she was aware of the fact that she and John Winchester had crossed paths seventeen years ago. "What did you think of dear old Dad?" he asked lightheartedly, glad for the emotional reprieve.

She glanced up at him with a sheepish look. Her eyes were still wet and bleary but he was relieved to see the all-out fear and utter defeat he had seen in them earlier was gone.

"Honestly," she admitted, "he was kinda scary." She released her hold of his shirt collar and sat up to smile at him. "But then again, I was only eight."

Dean laughed. "No, Lex," he said shaking his head. "You're right. My dad would be scary if you'd been twenty-eight."

Bobby chose that minute to reappear in the doorway, clearing his throat as he did so. Alex looked up to see him holding his left elbow tenderly, a trickle of blood escaping from under his trucker's cap.

"Bobby!" she jumped up and practically ran over to the mechanic, reining herself in just short of hugging him. She'd already been too much of a girl today, she decided. Her meltdown was over. She stopped and instead gestured towards the trickle of blood. "Are you alright?"

Bobby nodded, sneaking a peek past her at Dean also to satisfy his own need to confirm both of them were indeed unharmed. "Takes more than a flight across a church hall to take this ol' dog out," he grinned, finally feeling his chest relax and the tension ease from his shoulders. He had been terrified at Dean and Alex being locked in the back room with that monster, thinking they were both getting seriously hurt and maybe even killed. That kind of panic wasn't good for his old ticker, he decided with a silent snort.

You'd think he'd have learned by now that Winchesters, despite all their bad luck, had a knack for surviving the impossible. Nevertheless, it had surprised him to burst into the room and find Red-Eyes gone and both the young 'uns alive. Granted, Alex hadn't fared too well and seemed to be in a bit of an emotional state, but he knew enough to leave that to Dean. For an emotionally repressed train wreck, the boy was actually good at that sort of thing when he let himself act on his instincts. He'd been loving and unguarded when alone with Sam in their younger days, before Stanford, and that kid had been the sweetest darlin' you ever wanted to meet because of it. Lord knows John Winchester had nothing to do with that.

"Is he dead?" he asked of Red-Eyes, daring to hope.

Alex looked away and didn't reply, leaving Dean to answer Bobby's question.

"No," the hunter informed him as he came to stand next to them. "And Bobby, you need to get her out of here, _now_."

Bobby raised an eyebrow in question but then cut Dean off before he could explain what had gone down. "Say, Lex? Why don't you grab the spell sheets and wait for me in the car. I gotta have a quick word with Rambo here 'bout a family thing."

Alex nodded, not disputing the order despite the obvious lie. She threw Dean a hesitant look before stepping up and giving him a long, warm hug, which he returned without hesitation. She followed it up with a quick peck on the cheek as she pulled away before heading outside.

"Okay," Bobby said once she was gone. "Spill. What the Hell happened?"

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Bobby and Alex drove most of the way back to Sioux Falls in virtual silence. Dean had explained what had gone down in the church to Bobby, guilt written all over his face and clearly weighing heavily on his already over-burdened shoulders. The hunter had choked on his words when explaining that they had only made things worse and that next time Red-Eyes found Alex, he wasn't going to be satisfied with just a taste of pain. The mechanic had assured the younger man that none of this was his fault and that he needn't worry because they would think of something before the SOB found her, but he knew his words had fallen on deaf ears. He had agreed, however, that they needed to get Alex back to the panic room before Red-Eyes came looking for her again so cut his pep talk short and left to drive her home. Dean had stayed behind to clean up and said he would follow them back to Singer's Auto Salvage in the Impala.

Dean had also informed Bobby that Josh and Sam were on their way there too and had left it up to the mechanic to decide whether or not to tell Alex.

Bobby glanced over to the passenger seat and his shoulders sagged heavily. She was quiet, staring out the window in apparent silent contemplation. She hadn't even turned on the radio. He had tried to strike up conversation a couple of times and had received one word answers. It reminded him eerily of the first days she'd stayed at the Singer residence.

Well, girl or not, Bobby wasn't going to tiptoe this time.

"Okay, that's it," he snapped gruffly. "Either you tell me what's going on in that stubborn brain of yours or I'm phoning your brother."

She looked up, startled and bewildered at his change in tone. Sure he always pretended to be grouchy and uncaring but he was actually quite sweet and timid when it came to discussing certain topics with her. Topics that involved feelings or crap like that. He never pushed if she didn't want to talk and he'd certainly never threatened her before.

"You wouldn't," she stammered.

"Don't bet on it," he fired back, though his voice was already softening. "Look, I'll understand if you're scared, but if you're sitting there moping that things got dangerous and Dean coulda been killed and this is all your fault, then you need to snap out of it."

"Not just Dean," she answered quickly.

"What?"

"It wasn't just Dean that almost got killed. You too."

Bobby kept his groan on the inside. These kids and their damn guilt trips were gonna be the death of him. "So that's what this was about then? You thinking somehow that was your fault?"

"How was it not?" she demanded. "Red-Eyes is my problem. I told you I didn't want anyone else getting killed. You guys lied to me and put yourselves right in front of him. I can't trust that you're not gonna do the same again."

"Of course we will," Bobby said, frustrated and realizing suddenly she was planning to take off on her own.

"What?" Alex hadn't expected that answer.

"Lex, we're hunters. That's what hunters do."

"What? Die?"

"Kill monsters! In fact, it has nothin' to do with you. Even if we didn't know you, we'd still throw ourselves in front of Red-Eyes because he's evil and he's gotta die. That's just the way it is. That's what hunters do. We don't know no other way, kiddo. We all know we're gonna die at the hands of some inhuman SOB someday. We don't care. We got into the life not caring and we'll probably all go out that way."

Alex was quiet for a long moment, her forehead wrinkled in thought. "How did you get into the life, Bobby?" she asked quietly.

"Don't change the subject," the older man deflected with a smile. He knew her well enough not to fall for her usual deflection tactics. "Now are we agreed you don't try anythin' stupid on yer own and you just lay low in the panic room 'til we get this sorted out?"

"It's too risky," she shook her head.

"What could possibly be _less_ risky?" he groused. When she didn't answer, Bobby thought of something Dean had told him at the church. "What did Red-Eyes say to you right before he left?" he demanded.

Naturally she lied, waving a hand and dismissing the notion that Red-Eyes had said anything particularly disturbing.

Bobby didn't believe her. He gave her a look, his brown eyes turning soft and gentle and his voice suddenly sympathetic. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on," he said quietly.

Alex was caught off guard when he used a line her brother was always using on her. _God, she missed Josh._ She had always known she depended heavily on her brother for everything, probably pathetically so, but the last six months without him had been an eye-opener. If it hadn't been for Bobby and his patient gruffness, his cluttered but welcoming house and his peacefully mojo-silent panic room, she didn't know what kind of messed up state she'd be in.

She thought about the words Red-Eyes had muttered in her ear and another wave of fear swept through her.

_Enjoy what little time you have left, dearie, but don't doubt I will find you again. And when I do, not only will I kill you, but I will kill everyone around you. Your friends, your neighbors, whatever unfortunate souls just happen to be nearby. Then I'm going to find your dear brother - Josh is it? – and I'm going to tear him limb from limb, just for the fun of it. You think what I did to your parents was bad, just wait until I find him. That will teach you to try and kill me you little bitch._

"He said when he found me he'd kill whoever I was with," she admitted, unable to repeat the part about Josh for fear of crying like a blubbering baby again. "I don't want you to be around."

Bobby let out a long exhale as he analyzed the situation. "What happened to the glass-half-full attitude?" he said encouragingly. "No phones, no emails, and a mojo-proof panic room, remember? He ain't gonna find you. At least not for a while. 'Kay?"

Bobby got a reluctant nod from the blonde and decided there was no way he was going to admit Josh would be at Singer Auto Salvage in less than an hour.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Dean cleared most of the evidence of the rituals away, deciding the spray paint on the roof could stay since it would likely be blamed on partying teens. He piled the weapons and stakes in the Impala and then made a careless, deadly mistake.

He called Sam.

Just to tell the kid that things hadn't gone well and that Alex wouldn't want Josh there so if he could think of an excuse to turn around, he should do it. Sam, through cryptic answers that could only make sense between two people who knew each other better than they knew themselves, had explained that Josh had derived Bobby's address from his phone number and was determined to show up there with or without the youngest Winchester.

So Dean drove southeast towards Bobby's, squinting into the rising sun with Metallica blasting from his speakers and tried to figure out how he had managed to yet again screw Lex over. Now Red-Eyes didn't just want to hurt her, he wanted her dead. Pamela, Adam, Colby… Sam. He just couldn't seem to protect anyone these days. How the Hell could he be the one who was supposed to stop the Apocalypse? Castiel and his 'Righteous Man' rhetoric was full of shit.

He was about half an hour away from the salvage yard by the time he decided Lex needed to be warned that her brother was coming. He wasn't sure if Bobby had come clean already, giving her a chance to hide from Josh, but realized it wasn't their decision. She had a right, especially now, to keep her own family safe. He could sympathize with Josh but it was his sister's choice to make and he owed her that much.

He dialed the second number on his speed-dial, Bobby's cell, and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to Ulrich's pounding percussion for the three rings it took the mechanic to answer.

Bobby answered in a stern and breathless voice. "_Dean?_" he hissed into the phone, not waiting for the younger hunter to reply. _"He's here_!"

"What?" Dean's heart lurched. "Who?"

But Bobby never answered. Instead Dean heard Alex's voice in a terrified scream

"_BOBBY!"_ she shrieked before the phone went dead with a series of bangs and an ominous click.

SPN-SPN-SPN

_TBC..._

_Okay, you really didn't think they were gonna kill him first try, did you? Sorry, another cliffie, but since I am posting almost every day they don't really count, right?*sheepish grin*_ _Next chap: I'm just going to say that there is a reason behind everything in my story-writing..._


	30. We Need to Get to Bobby's!

_Bobby answered in a stern and breathless voice. "__Dean?__" he hissed into the phone, not waiting for the younger hunter to reply. __"He's here__!"_

_"What?" Dean's heart lurched. "Who?"_

_But Bobby never answered. Instead Dean heard Alex's voice in a terrified scream._

_"__BOBBY__!"__ she shrieked before the phone went dead with a series of bangs and an ominous click._

_._

**Chapter 30 - We need to get to Bobby's!**

"Bobby!" Dean yelled into the phone in panic. "Bobby!"

There was nothing but dead air in reply. He hung up and dialed back to find the phone went straight to the mechanic's gruff voicemail message. "Fuck!" He slammed his phone against the steering wheel repeatedly until he felt it crack in his hands. Throwing it violently down on the floor of the Impala he clenched his teeth and squeezed his fingers around the wheel so hard it hurt. Not that he noticed.

The urgency in Bobby's voice, the terror in Alex's... Red-Eyes had found them. Of this Dean had no doubts.

He struggled to quell the rising panic inside and force his brain to think straight. He was a half hour's drive away. Even if he raced the Impala as fast as she would go, and his foot was already forcing the accelerator pedal to the floor, he still wouldn't get there for another fifteen to twenty minutes. If Bobby and Lex weren't dead already, they would be in fifteen minutes. He leaned over and pulled open the glove compartment, rooting madly through its contents for another one of the Winchesters' phones. His fingers wrapped around his Dad's old one and he yanked it out, dialing Sam's latest number as fast as he could.

"_Dean? That you?"_

"Yeah, Sam, listen, how far away from Bobby's are you?"

"'_Bout forty minutes. Why are you using Dad's…"_

"Shit!"

"_What's wrong?"_

"We need to get to Bobby's!"

"_Why?" _Sam's voice too was now laced with dread.

"Red-Eyes is there. Sammy, I think he went after Bobby. I heard Lex scream his name then the phone went dead."

There was a brief silence. "_Crap Dean," _his brother breathed into the phone_._ _"Oh _s_hit,_ _and_ _you said he was gonna kill Alex too_."

"I know that, damnit!" Dean snapped, frustrated at feeling so helpless.

He could hear Josh in the background, clearly riled at the mention of his sister. _"What's going on? Who's gonna kill Lex? What the fuck, Sam?"_

"Just get there as fast as you can," Dean pleaded before snapping his Dad's phone shut and pounding his fist against the Impala's steering wheel again.

"Fuck!" he yelled into the empty air, finding no relief or comfort in the angry shout. Visions of what could be happening at the Singer Salvage yard right now raced through his head and he shuddered at the thought of losing more people he cared about - he couldn't take it. He really, truly wouldn't be able to take it. He was hanging on by a thread as it was and he knew it. Jesus, this was Bobby he was talking about here! Besides Sam, Bobby was the only family he had left. And Lex... fuck, hadn't he done enough to hurt her? He wanted nothing more than to see her happy and safe. If he had ever wanted to save anybody, it was her.

"God, no," he breathed, pumping the accelerator as if by some miracle that would push the Impala past her already impressive maximum. "Please God, no."

Of course, God never listened to him, he thought bitterly before a sudden possibility occurred to him. God may not be listening, but being 'The Righteous Man' and all, he sort of had an open channel to the next best thing.

"CAS!" he screamed into the empty car. "CAS! You son of a bitch where are you?"

Nothing.

"Cas if you're ever gonna listen to a thing I say, now would be the time!"

Still nothing.

"Goddamnit Cas!" he raged, once again slamming his hand against the classic's steering wheel, not caring that she didn't deserve the abuse.

"What is it Dean?"

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when the figure in the beige trench coat appeared in the passenger seat next to him. Though he had been asking for the angel to come, he realized part of him hadn't really expected Cas to show up.

The calmness of Cas's voice was in such contrast to the turmoil Dean was feeling inside that it grated at the hunter's nerves but he paid his annoyance no heed, instead giving in to his extreme thankfulness.

"Cas, thank God!" he blurted out. "I need you to take me to Bobby's right now."

Cas glanced out the front window. "It seems we are headed that way."

"No, I need to get there _now_," Dean clarified. "I need you to use your angel mojo and zap us there." He didn't pause long enough for the angel to refuse. "Bobby and Lex are in trouble," he added, assuming that would be a sufficient explanation.

Apparently that wasn't reason enough. Castiel frowned. "Dean, I am not a taxi."

On any other day and in any other situation, Dean would have been amused at Cas's accurate and almost humorous use of a metaphor. But this day, with his friends' lives at stake, it annoyed the heck out of him. "No, you're an angel," he snapped. "And you're the only one that can help Bobby right now!"

"I cannot," Castiel said evenly, looking apologetic.

"Like Hell you can't!" Dean fired back. "There's a really pissed demi-god at Bobby's house right fucking now and if you don't zap me there, he and Lex are both gonna die!"

"And taking you there would only put you in danger, Dean."

"Since when did you dicks care about me being in danger?"

Cas sighed. "You are needed to stop Lucifer from rising," he said, his voice still calm if not patient. "This is far bigger than the lives of your friends."

"I don't care!" Dean bellowed, starting to get worried Cas wasn't going to help.

"I can't deliberately place you in unnecessary peril," Cas continued. "This is not related to the Apocalypse."

Dean swore loudly, oblivious to Cas's tightening lips at the religious undertones of some of the more colourful curses.

"Okay, fine," the hunter bargained, reining his fear-induced temper in. "You go then. You can probably waste this thing with your eyes closed. You go help them and I'll stay here, nice and safe."

Cas sighed, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments as he did so. When he opened them, he gave Dean a genuinely sorry look. "I can't." he repeated. "There are rules."

"Rules against helping people?" Dean was incredulous.

"Rules against interfering."

"You interfere all the time!" Dean pointed out, his voice rising in panic. "You pulled me out of Hell, you sent us after Samhain, you showed up at Netiran's ritual..."

"We are under very strict orders not to intervene with what does not involve Heaven directly, with anything that does not involve a seal on Lucifer's tomb," Cas explained. "The threat of Apocalypse is the only reason we are permitted to walk among you now."

"You're telling me Bobby's gonna die because you angel dicks have yourselves a Prime Directive?!" Dean fumed, knowing Cas wouldn't understand the Star Trek reference but not really caring. The cold-hearted bastard would know what he meant. "I thought Angels of the Lord were supposed to be Heaven's Soldiers!"

"We are," Cas replied evenly.

"Well, where I come from, soldiers are supposed to protect the weak. You know, the defenceless, the innocent," Dean argued frantically. "Bobby and Lex are God's creatures and if you won't use your Heavenly powers to help them then what kind of Soldier of God does that make you?"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas said.

"What kind of sick, heartless God makes a rule against helping good people?" Dean was getting desperate.

"I'm sorry," Cas repeated with a guilty look but a tone of finality.

"No, Cas, please…" but the angel was gone. Dean stared at the empty seat in shock for a brief instant before a wave of despair hit him at the realization his friends' last hope had just flown away in merciless arrogance and, in Dean's opinion, extreme cowardice.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Josh swerved back into his own lane in front of the semi just feet from the oncoming van that whizzed past the Bronco blaring its horn loudly. He had listened, seething in silence, as Sam had relayed what Dean had told the younger Winchester about the ambush for Red-Eyes that had gone wrong and how Red-Eyes had threatened to kill Lex the next time he saw her. It had been mostly anger he had felt as the situation was explained, anger directed equally at both Winchesters, but that had instantly turned into fear and horror when Sam ended by admitting that they were pretty sure Red-Eyes had just shown up at Bobby's house.

"Shit Josh, we still have to get there in one piece," Sam urged through gritted teeth as he sat white-knuckled in the passenger seat.

"Don't you fucking talk to me," Josh snarled, weaving in and out around the highway traffic at an insane rate. "How much farther to the turn-off?"

"At this speed, maybe ten minutes," Sam guessed. "Look, my family's in danger too," he pointed out. "Bobby's like an uncle to me and Dean. A father, even."

Josh shook his head as he yanked the wheel to slip in between two delivery vans and pass them on the gravel shoulder of the road. "The first time we met back in Indiana, I asked you two…no, I _told_ you two… not to try anything against him," he barked. "I fucking warned you! He just gets pissed and hurts Lexie. If you had to be so goddamn kamikaze about it, couldn't you have at least figured out a way to do it without her there?"

Sam realized the blond man wasn't really looking for an answer and wisely kept quiet. The last thing he needed was to antagonize the already insanely fast and furious driver behind the wheel. Pointing out that Alex was an adult and had made her own decision to go ahead with the plan didn't seem like the wisest move right now.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**A few minutes earlier...**_

Bobby and Alex pulled up in front of the Singer house, both tired from a sleepless night and another long drive. The mechanic shut off the noisy engine with a sigh, looking over at the blonde girl.

"You can stay here as long as you like, kiddo," he offered. "He won't find you here and we'll figure this out, okay?"

"Thanks Bobby," she answered with a tired smile.

"And I'm sorry we stirred the pot and screwed the pooch last night," he added, grimacing a sincere apology at her. "We'll make this right, I swear." He studied her for a second, neither of them making any move to get out of the car just yet. "You're not gonna take off on me, are you?" he asked bluntly.

"No," she answered truthfully. "I can't stay long, just in case, but I'll give it a few days."

"At least promise me you'll tell me 'fore you go," he ordered in his 'take no nonsense' voice.

He waited for her to nod in agreement before opening his door. Good, he thought, that gave him a few days to figure out their next move.

"Bobby?" she said hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for everything."

"For puttin' a bee under Red's ass?" the mechanic groused sarcastically, still mad at himself for not planning this thing out better, for not coming up with a more foolproof plan, and for landing her and Dean in harm's way.

Alex gave him a half-smile. "It was a rat's fault. Even you don't control the rats B."

"Hmph," was all she got for a reply.

"I meant for like, everything," she continued a little awkwardly. "For letting me stay at your place, for putting up with me, for not making me feel like a weirdo, for doing all that research, for risking yourself and your family, um, you know, for everything. What I'm trying to say is…um…"

"Why don't I just say you're welcome and we go inside?" Bobby grinned. "You feelin' hungry? 'cause with all this excitement, I sure feel like makin' the biggest helping of the Singer Special fried breakfast you ever saw. "

Alex returned his grin, opening her own door. "Oooh! Count me in." She didn't bother removing her iPhone from the car jack - it wasn't like she could call anyone anyway - and instead just grabbed the small bag on the floor by her feet with the spellbooks in it.

Bobby slung the weapons duffel from the trunk onto his shoulder and followed her inside, dumping the bag on the kitchen table before raking through his cupboards for his biggest cast-iron frying pan. He was just lighting the gas stove when he heard her gasp.

"Bobby!" she breathed, her voice tight with fear. "He's found us!"

His hunter's instincts kicked in and he immediately snatched a couple of stakes from the duffel bag. "Get to the car!" he barked, turning to see she was already grabbing the keys and heading towards him and the door. They ran through the living room and were halfway to the front door when she stopped suddenly, grabbing his vest from behind in an attempt to stop him.

He turned to see her trying to back up, her eyes wide with fear as she stared past him at the door. "He's right there!" she hissed.

Though he saw nothing, Bobby didn't need to be told twice. He turned around. "To the panic room!" he decided, not sure if it would keep Red-Eyes out but not really seeing any other options.

Still clutching at each other's sleeves, they ran towards the open door at the top of the stairs. A few yards away from it, they stopped short, scrambling to bring their feet to such a sudden halt. This time Bobby didn't need Alex to warn him for he could see it with his own eyes. He got his first look at the creature that had been chasing her for twenty years and had to admit, it was a damn menacing looking fiend.

He was standing in front of the door to the stairs, effectively blocking their retreat. Red-Eyes was tall, at least a half-foot more so than the youngest Winchester. His face was gnarled and dark, as were his claw-like fingers, but most terrifying were the eyes. Glowing red orbs with narrowing slits stared unblinking at them both, their owner's evil intent coming through loud and clear from the baleful expression and the sinister grin he was giving them.

"Crap," Bobby muttered as he tightened his grip on Alex's sleeve and the pair made a mad dash for the kitchen. He half expected Red-Eyes to attack from behind as they ran but surprisingly, he didn't make a move to follow. Instead, only his loud, malevolent laugh followed them around the corner and through the open archway.

"God-dangit!" Bobby panted, wracking his brain for a next move. "That is one ugly son of a bitch!"

"Climb out the kitchen window!" Alex yelped at him, panic lacing her voice as she shoved him towards the back counter. "Quick!"

"Like Hell!" Bobby pushed her hands away indignantly. They could still hear Red-Eyes laughing in the other room. "Now listen to me," he grabbed her wrist to get her attention. "He's solid right now. We still did the anti-healing spell, remember? These should work." He shoved one of the wooden stakes he was carrying into her hand.

"Only for me and Dean," she pointed out, figuring out his plan. Bobby hadn't been inside the circle with her and the elder Winchester when she'd performed the little spell to make the demi-god vulnerable to the stakes. It would only work for those who had been in the circle.

"So I'll distract him enough that you can sink that into him, okay?" he said.

Her eyes were wild as she ran the scenario through her mind. It was hard to think with the piercing pain in her head that her mojo delivered when Red-Eyes was this close. "That's a bad plan," she snorted, almost looking like she was going to laugh.

Bobby shrugged. "All we got kid."

Alex knew he was right. Now that Red-Eyes was fully here and corporeal, there was no way they could escape him. Bobby had a chance if he sneaked out the window and took off because Red-Eyes would probably be more preoccupied with her anyway, but she realized as she stared at him now that he would never go along with it. Like he had told her earlier, this is what hunters do.

She nodded.

Red-Eyes was suddenly there, an imposing figure standing in the wide doorway. "Now now dearie," he taunted. "Isn't scurrying around the house a little childish? I thought we'd moved past that by now."

"Move past this, asshole," Bobby spat as he lunged for the beast with his stake, realizing with chagrin as the words were escaping his mouth that all the time he had been spending with Dean Winchester of late was apparently rubbing off on him.

Alex took her cue and tightened her grip on her own stake, praying desperately that Red-Eyes didn't kill her friend before she could stab the bastard. She moved quickly from behind the mechanic, coming at Red-Eyes from the other direction and counting that their enemy would turn towards Bobby first.

It worked as planned - almost. Red-Eyes managed to look barely inconvenienced by Bobby's attack, turning and swatting at him with a supernaturally strong arm and sending him careening into the living room. He hit the wall hard but it left Alex the opening she needed and she rushed up behind their foe, ramming the stake as hard as she could into his side through his thin layer of black clothing. It sank in with a sickening squelching sound. She tried to dance out of reach but was caught by a backhand to the face that sent her slamming to the floor in the living room. She rolled to her knees and scrambled over to Bobby, who was trying to sit up after his much harder hit. They both turned to face Red-Eyes, hoping like Hell he was dropping dead.

He wasn't. He was looking eerily calm as he pulled out the stake slowly and held it up to them both, shaking his head. "Tsk tsk," he clucked in a condescending tone. "Surely you don't think I never took measures to counter that rather naughty spell you tried to use on me, dearie." He looked at Bobby as he spoke his next sentence, though his words were still directed at the blonde.

"I told you in that church that I would kill everyone around you when I found you," he said coldly. "I don't lie."

Alex's heart felt like it was in a vice and she glanced sideways at Bobby. A thought struck her that the older man looked strangely smaller and more vulnerable now that the last hit had knocked his trucker's cap off. His face was pulled tight in a barely concealed wince from the pain he was feeling from his hard landing. The invincible, all-knowing guru who had helped her in so many ways the past month was, after all, just a man.

"How'd you find me anyway?" she fired at Red-Eyes, desperate to distract him from killing her friend.

"Oh please," Red-Eyes scoffed. "It took that angel-patsy of a fool, Dean Winchester, less than half an hour to make a phone call. Once I had his number, I sniffed through his call history. You know, for mankind's supposed savior, he has very few friends. In the past week, the only calls he has made have been to his abomination of a brother," he looked at Bobby, "you, old man, and - oh yes!" he looked back to Alex, his eyes widening in red, twisted delight, "and Josh! Good old Josh. He's on his way here right now. I told you I would find him and rip him to pieces. You didn't think I'd forget about that, did you?"

Bobby saw the look of anguish that blanketed Alex's face. It dawned on him now the full extent of what Red-Eyes had whispered in the girl's ear at the church and her meltdown suddenly made perfect sense. Her brother was everything to her, that much had been obvious from the first day he had met her. People who'd experienced continuing abuse or trauma like she had in her life usually ended up in one of two ways; as bitter, angry, and often volatile hard-asses or as whimpering parcels of fear who thought they didn't deserve to be treated any better. Bobby was pretty sure that the fact that Alex was neither was mostly her brother's doing. Sure, the girl had issues and some tendencies in both directions, but considering her life, she was relatively well-adjusted. At least compared to most people in Bobby's social circles.

"I've left your brother alone all these years so he could patch you up when I get a tad … overzealous," Red-Eyes continued, his black lips curling into a vicious smile. "But it seems I won't be needing his services anymore."

Bobby felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and surreptitiously pulled it out while Red-Eyes was talking. The call display read Dean's name. He looked up to see the large figure stepping towards them. He hadn't managed to make it up off the floor yet and with Alex still on her knees next to him, they were sitting ducks. At least he could give Dean the heads up so the hunter didn't stumble in on this unaware. He threw an arm in front of Alex as he flipped the phone open. "_Dean_," he hissed. "_He's here_."

Red-Eyes reached them and grabbed him by the vest, dragging him roughly up the wall before hurling him with great force across the room. He heard Alex scream his name as he sailed through the air and recognized the door to the top of the stairs as he crashed through it. Then it went blank.

Alex watched in horror as Bobby slammed into the basement door, bursting it open with the impact before he disappeared down the stairs with a series of terrifying bangs and thuds followed by a crushing silence.

Two seconds later Red-Eyes was hoisting her up in his preferred method, with his gnarled claws clamped around her neck. He tossed her roughly to the middle of the floor before stepping up and kicking her in the gut. As she curled in on herself in pain, he let out a heartless chuckle and yanked her off the floor again, throwing her against the wall by the kitchen doorway.

She felt the sharp pain of at least two ribs cracking upon impact. "Ah, now that's tasty," she heard him say as she slumped to the floor, knowing he was referring to her pain. She was too winded to even cry out and he didn't let up, digging his claws into her shoulder as he pulled her once again to her feet and shook her like a rag doll. Gasping in agony she clutched her ribcage, trying to stop the piercing jolts of agony the rattling of her broken ribs was sending through her body. "I'm going to miss this," he cackled, stopping the shaking long enough to laugh in her face.

"Fuck you," she managed, though it came out as barely more than a whisper. She decided that if these was to be her last moments, she wasn't going to go out begging for mercy. He wasn't paying any attention, however, as he was looking past her into the kitchen.

Still smiling, he glanced back down at her face. "What do we have here?" he gloated, clearly seeing something he liked over by Bobby's stove as he began to drag Alex over towards it. She squeezed her eyes shut with dread when she realized Bobby had switched it on to make his fritters when they'd been interrupted by Red-Eyes' arrival.

Sure enough, Red-Eyes manhandled the much smaller frame of the girl over to the gas stove, where he held her tightly from behind, grabbing her left arm and pushing it forward. "I told you this was going to be fun," he laughed, ignoring her futile struggling. With that, he pressed her forearm down in the small circle of blue flames, taking in deep, laughing breaths as she screamed.

And Alex did scream. She screamed from the searing pain shooting up her arm, for the fear that Bobby was dead and that Josh may be next, and for the certain knowledge that this time, Red-Eyes wasn't going to stop until he killed her and he was going to make it as torturously painful as he could.

She was barely aware her arm had been pulled off the flame when she felt Red-Eyes release her and drop her to the ground. The burning pain was so intense it was disorienting, but she managed to crawl a couple of feet away from where he stood. She felt a strange sensation in her head poking holes through Red-Eyes' mojo pain and tried to clear her head to focus past the intense throbbing of her arm.

Suddenly, the looming Red-Eyes was gone and his mass was careening across the kitchen floor into the far wall. She looked up sharply through her tears of pain to find a man standing above her, his arm held outstretched towards her tormentor. He was wearing a beige trench coat and looking down at her with the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen, an otherworldly glow emanating from his form.

"_Cas_!" she gasped hoarsely in bewilderment.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

It had only taken Castiel a few moments to change his mind. When he had left his charge's vehicle, he had taken himself to a favourite spot of his, a place he often came for solitude and to seek revelation while down here on the planet's surface. It was a remote rocky outcrop on the Brazilian coastline that sported a breathtaking view of sand and sea. The angel found the ocean to be strangely peaceful and had always been drawn to the more humid climates of the human world.

Dean's words kept running through his mind and he was almost loathe to admit he found them to be of substantial merit.

All men were God's creatures. His Father had created them and asked the angels to love them. Was part of loving them not protecting them from evil? Especially evil not of their doing, like this demi-god Dean had mentioned?

_What kind of sick, heartless God makes a rule against helping good people?_

His charge's words of blasphemy should have angered him but instead they brought him much confusion. Heaven's Soldiers stationed down here received instructions through revelation that forbade them from intervening. Was this decree indeed heartless as Dean had suggested? Were they even really the wishes of his Father? Cas felt immediate shame for his train of thought but could no longer deny his growing doubts.

Then there was Dean Winchester. A mere human who had been through so much and yet remained vigilant in his beliefs. Though Dean's human body could so easily be killed and his flash of an existence so easily ended, he still placed himself willingly between any innocent and danger. He didn't do it because he was ordered to do so, he did it because he believed it was right. Cas had no doubts Dean would have attacked this demi-god head on with nothing but his pistol and his fists had Cas taken him to Bobby Singer's house. The angel found that admirable and frighteningly inspiring.

The fear in Dean's voice had been unmistakable. When Cas was around Dean, the human's feelings were often hard to ignore. They emanated from him with a terrible intensity. There was self-loathing and fear and an incredible amount of guilt, but there was still love, especially for his family, and there was yet a small sliver of hope left in him. Cas knew Bobby Singer's death would take a toll on the hunter, perhaps one he wouldn't make it past. He remembered the days in the hospital after Alistair had informed Dean he had broken the first seal and the more recent image of the hunter crying in the arms of the psychic in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean's will was strong by any standards, not just human ones, but his resolve was undeniably failing.

He should try to help Dean. He should try to save the hunter's friends. He should try to protect two of God's innocent creatures like a Soldier of Heaven should be expected to do. It _felt_ like the right thing to do. But it would mean disobeying a longtime standing order.

Anna's chastising words ran through his mind.

_It's time to think for yourself._

Castiel made his decision.

When he landed in the Singer kitchen, the demi-god was holding the young girl's arm in the flame of the stove and she was screaming. A demi-god was a formidable foe and Castiel knew it would not be easily defeated, but seeing the cruel infliction of pain on an innocent for no reason other than sadistic enjoyment only further justified his decision to come here. This was not God's Will.

The creature saw him and dropped the human, turning to face him with angry, glowing red eyes. Cas was momentarily startled at its appearance and the energy it gave off; it didn't look or feel like any demi-god he had ever come across. Of course, demi-god was a very misleading term because Pagan gods really had nothing to do with God and their powers were anything _but_ heavenly. He stepped forward and threw a punch packed with celestial power at the creature, sending it flying across the room and slamming into the far wall.

The girl looked up at him. Cas now recalled his brief meetings with her months ago and remembered she had been a viable vessel, a fact he had not divulged to his brethren for fear it would alienate Dean. She also had the even rarer ability to perceive his true form beneath his vessel. She stammered his name and he reached his hand out, pulling her gently to her feet.

"Where is Bobby Singer?" he asked, skipping the unnecessary pleasantries as usual, a habit Dean was always teasing him about. He had come to save two people, after all, and did not see the second.

"He's down the stairs," she answered quickly, taking an immediate step in that direction. Cas held his arm out to stop her as the demi-god was on his feet and approaching fast. She noticed it and stepped backwards with an audible gasp until her back was pressed against the counter behind the angel. Cas lunged forward to meet the creature's attack.

The pair slammed into one another in the middle of the room like two freight trains colliding head on. The walls shook but the demi-god didn't yield as easily as the angel had hoped. Castiel was hit in the face with a mighty swing from a long, powerful arm that sent him reeling backwards. He regained his balance, pulling his weight forward again and, without missing a beat, lunged at the red-eyed creature, again summoning heavenly power at his disposal as he struck. His blow sent the larger figure flying through the air again, but this time it disappeared into thin air an instant before it slammed into the far wall.

He turned back towards the girl. "Get to the iron room, now," he ordered sharply.

"Is he dead?" she asked cautiously pushing herself away from the counter and taking a step towards him.

"No. He'll be back." Castiel strongly suspected the creature would be back to try and finish him off. It was not simply a demi-god; it had power behind those blows that went far beyond that. The red eyes would indicate perhaps he was also Cucui, a loathsome breed who had, many millennia ago, sided themselves with Lucifer when he had fallen. Cucui were cruel, tenacious and certainly not known for running from a fight they were likely to win.

As Alex walked past him, she reached out and touched his hand. "Thank-you," she said sincerely.

He wrinkled his brow in slight discomfort at the contact, looking down at his hand but resisted withdrawing it. "It is not I to whom you owe thanks," he said evenly. "This is Dean's will, his doing. Please go to the iron room before this thing returns."

She dropped her arm and stepped back. "Can you beat him?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Cas replied, though he had sizable reservations that was the truth. The girl nodded her acceptance and turned quickly towards the stairs. Cas watched her pause at the top, gasping as she stared down into the basement.

"Bobby?" she called frantically, disappearing down into the darkness.

No sooner had she gone than Red-Eyes returned. He appeared suddenly right behind Castiel and slammed the angel into the kitchen doorframe, cracking the jamb and knocking huge chunks of plaster out of the wall. Cas forced himself back up quickly, though without his usual grace and fluidity of movement.

The creature lunged again and the angel sidestepped enough to avoid the full brunt of the attack, instead only being knocked sideways about eight feet. He came back at the red-eyed creature as quickly as he could and they grappled wildly in Bobby's living room, slamming each other into walls and breaking any furniture that had the misfortune of getting in the way.

Cas was beginning to grow concerned for his vessel as he was hurled out the den window and landed with a smack against an older model truck parked near the front of the house. The impact dented the door so much so that it swung off its hinges when he bounced off its surface. He was being forced to use much of his power to continuously heal Jimmy Novak. He staggered to his feet again and noticed his knees were trembling and his head was spinning as he raced up the porch steps to get back inside.

He was met at the front door by the creature who took advantage of his slight disorientation to step forward and thrust a six inch blade into the angel's gut. The knife might not be able to harm the angel as much as the mojo-packed punches were, but it still caused him great pain and would require yet more diverted power to heal. He looked down at the silver knife protruding from Jimmy's stomach with unease.

_This was not going well._

_**SPN-SPN-SPN**_

_**TBC...**_

_I LIVE for surprising readers so I hope at least some of you were surprised who showed up. _

_**Next chap**: Who will get to Bobby's first and what will they find? _


	31. From Scoundrel to Saint

_Yay, last chapter! It's a long one but I decided not to break it up. Just the epilogue left after this (which will be up tomorrow). Thanks so much to all of you who are reading and have faved or alerted or reviewed. Hope you like the conclusion to my saga (almost 450,000 words!). I would love to hear from you and constructive criticism is welcomed because how else am I going to improve, right? This series was my first attempt at writing and I thoroughly enjoyed myself for the entire 800 hours it took me to write, lol. _

**Chapter 31**** - From Scoundrel to Saint**

Alex saw Bobby at the bottom of the stairs, lying face up on the concrete floor with his arm all twisted up underneath him. He was still and silent and looked terrifyingly dead. She flew down the steps two at a time until she was kneeling next to him and felt frantically for a pulse.

It was hard to detect the slow, barely perceptible beat in the mechanic's neck because of the overpowering thumping of her own heart in her ears, but she did find it eventually. By this time, however, it seemed all Hell had broken loose upstairs. There was banging and thumping and the ceiling above was shaking with the impact of the supernatural fight going on. She realized she needed to get Bobby to the safety of the panic room and hoped to God he hadn't sustained any neck or back injuries as she unceremoniously dragged him across the floor towards the door. She cringed as she hauled his unconscious form over the iron threshold, a feat made more difficult by the fact that the burn on her arm was still pure agony and her breath was coming in raspy wheezes from a pain in her chest. She hoped she hadn't damages any vital organs with the ribs she was sure must be broken.

Once inside, she hesitated, contemplating sneaking back up the stairs despite the trembling walls and the extreme pain she was in. She knew she should stay with Bobby and let Castiel do his thing but if Red-Eyes was about to meet his maker, she damn well wanted to be there to see it.

If anyone or anything could kill Red-Eyes, she believed wholeheartedly it was Castiel. The Winchesters and Bobby had repeated their warnings to her that angels weren't to be trusted but from the moment she first met Dean's trench-coated angel and sensed that powerful wave of goodness emanating from him, she had been convinced otherwise. He had done the impossible and pulled Dean out of Hell, after all.

Steeling herself with a deep breath and briefly thankful for the high pain threshold years of abuse had given her, she stepped back out into the basement. She turned to close the panic room door behind her to keep Bobby safe while she went upstairs to bear witness to her tormentor's well-overdue demise.

Her mind was quickly changed. The doorframe at the top of the stairs suddenly cracked and splintered then a flash of beige crossed her path, blowing her hair back with its speed. The whole house shook when the object slammed into the cement basement wall across from the stairs and she grabbed the iron door to steady herself. When she looked up, her heart dropped at what she saw.

Cas was staggering to his feet. His clothes were ripped and covered in dirt and plaster, his face was swollen and bloody and he was rocking some serious bed-hair.

"Cas!" she gasped as it occurred to her for the first time the angel might not be as unbeatable as she thought. She vaguely remembered Bobby telling her that Cas had been bested by a demon... Alister or Alistair or something... not too long ago but the angel had sounded so sure upstairs when he told her that he could beat Red-Eyes that she hadn't thought to doubt it. Looking at him now, however, she was seriously doubting it.

His blue eyes lifted to meet hers. "Get inside the iron room and close the door," he said flatly, as he steadied himself against the wall. The swelling in his face was lessening while he stood and his torn coat magically straightened and fixed the worst of its rips before her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked, hesitant to leave him.

He gave her a look that didn't instill much confidence and strode back towards the stairs. "It is a powerful creature," was all he said.

A shadow fell across the floor as a dark figure appeared in the doorway above. Cas didn't hesitate before he practically flew up the stairs and landed a fist in Red-Eyes's face and the two disappeared from Alex's view amidst a loud series of bangs and thuds that again shook Bobby's old house.

She hopped quickly back into the panic room and slammed the heavy door shut. Crouching down on the floor next to Bobby's head, she pleaded aloud that Cas would win and that Bobby was okay and would wake up any second now. The sound of shattering glass floated down the stairs and the walls trembled yet again.

And also maybe that Bobby would have a house left to wake up to.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Cas felt his neck snap sideways as his much larger foe landed a fist in Jimmy's face. The angel staggered a step back to give himself a brief opportunity to recover and heal the broken cervical vertebrae before lunging forward to throw a few punches of his own. Jimmy's deceivingly smaller frame packed a wildly powerful punch when combined with the force of Heaven that Castiel was channeling and Red-Eyes flew across the kitchen and slammed into the far wall again.

The demi-god pulled himself back up quickly and Cas let out a frustrated groan at the seemingly interminable energy the creature possessed. He braced himself for the next assault, realizing he was doing more defending than attacking and needed to turn the tables if he was to win this fight. Red-Eyes lunged at him and he pushed to meet him head-on, slamming against him in the middle of the room and sending another rumble tearing through the walls of the house. This time it was Cas who was sent flying backwards and his enemy sprang after him with renewed rage, pounding a gnarled fist repeatedly into the angel's sprawled form. He didn't let up and Cas showed no signs of his usual grace as he flailed and scrambled across the floor to escape the blows.

Cas knew he was losing this fight. He also knew he could 'fly' out of here to safety any time he wanted and the creature would not be able to follow him. But that would leave two innocent humans to die painful and undeserving deaths and Cas suddenly realized he would stay here and die if that's what it came to, but he would not abandon them.

It made no sense. It went against all his orders and all his beliefs. It was wasteful to risk the life of an angel and Soldier of God to protect a couple of mere humans that, as far as he was aware, did not have a significant destiny or grander purpose than he in this fight against Lucifer. But yet it felt right. He suddenly felt a sense of understanding of Dean Winchester that had previously eluded him. Why Dean insisted on risking his life for any innocent in need of his help, despite Castiel's repeated reminders that the hunter's life was more important to the greater cause, that he had a crucial role to play. Every life was worth fighting for, and most worth dying for, especially those of his Father's greatest creations. Castiel hadn't felt so _right_ about anything in all his centuries of obedient existence.

He scrambled to his feet and this time didn't bother to straighten Jimmy's skewed and torn trench coat. He grabbed the only object within reach, which happened to be a wooden stake. He thought ruefully that if the creature had simply been a demi-god, one jab with this wooden stake would have finished this. Having Cucui in the mix, however, would make this much harder.

Red-Eyes barely gave him a second to catch his breath before lunging at him again. Cas brought up the stake and with his last ounce of effort, rammed it into the creature's barrel chest.

It had an effect, at least. Red-Eyes grunted and clutched at the gaping hole. The angel knew not to miss an opportunity and rammed the stake into Red-Eyes again and again and again with increasing vigor. It could have been part desperation but whatever it was, it was working. Red-Eyes fell to the floor and the battered angel threw himself on top of him, aiming the stake for the fifth time at the remnants of the creature's heart.

If he could tear the heart into enough pieces, he just might have a chance of surviving... and of not disappointing Dean.

He plunged it downwards over and over, desperation fueling his attack. The creature's red eyes started to lose their glow and the retaliating blows to Cas's face weakened and slowed. Cas kept going, hacking furiously away at the gasping monster beneath him until its arms fell limp and one last gargled breath escaped its thin, black lips.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

The ever-loyal Impala didn't disappoint, making the half hour drive in less than twenty. She fishtailed her way into the salvage yard, skidding to a halt in front of the familiar house. Her lone occupant leapt from the driver's seat before she had a chance to roll back on her haunches, running like a madman up the porch steps and disappearing inside.

Dean caught sight of the blue Bronco charging through the gate in the distance behind him as he reached the house's front door but his worry for Bobby and Alex erased any cautionary thoughts of waiting for the backup. He raced inside, calling loudly. "Bobby! Lex!"

The living room looked like a bomb had gone off inside its walls. Chunks of plaster and millwork were hanging off the walls and ceiling and not a single piece of furniture was upright and intact. The majority of the shelves of books lining the walls were snapped and ripped and torn pages littered the room. The light fixture was hanging by a single wire, swaying precariously over the overturned couch.

"Bobby?" Dean moved cautiously into the kitchen and was taken aback by what he found there.

Cas was on his knees in the middle of the floor looking rather the worse for wear. His hair and coat were covered in drywall dust and his shirt was untucked, torn, and bloody. The blue tie was pulled looser and more askew than usual and blood trickled down the side of the angel's head as well as from the corner of his mouth. He was swaying and he lifted his head just enough to catch the hunter's eye as Dean entered the room.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed in surprise, stepping forward quickly to grab the angel by the shoulders and steady him. "Whoa, easy there tiger," he urged as the intense blue eyes struggled to focus on his hazel ones. "Cas," he asked, leaning in closer to the angel. "Where are Bobby and Lex?"

"In the iron room," Cas answered hoarsely.

Dean heard footsteps at the front door before two voices rang out from the living room.

"DEAN? BOBBY?" That was Sam.

"LEX?" That was Josh.

The hunter stepped back a few paces so he could get a line of sight to the new arrivals. Sam stopped short when he saw his brother, clearly searching the older Winchester's face for a sign of their friends' fates. "They're in the panic room," Dean informed them, not waiting to watch Sam quickly turn towards the stairs at the start of the hallway with Josh on his heels. He stepped back to Cas, grabbing him by the shoulder of his trenchcoat and helping the struggling angel to his feet.

"You okay?" he asked, unaccustomed to seeing the angel with so much as a hair out of place.

Cas managed a curt nod.

"What happened to not interfering?" Dean asked, unable to stifle a sly smile.

"You were right," Cas rasped between broken breaths, holding a hand up to indicate he could stand on his own. "They didn't... deserve to die. I thought... I thought I should help."

"You did, huh?" Dean felt a surge of something inside directed towards the angel that he couldn't quite define. Friendship, loyalty, redemption, hope? Pride maybe?

"And Red-Eyes?" he finally asked apprehensively, not noticing the large, still form on the floor behind the angel in his worry.

"He is dead." Cas gave him a reproachful look. "And he was not just a demi-god, I might add. He was far stronger than I expected. Very resistant to celestial powers."

Dean stared at the dead monster on the floor with the torn-wide-open bloody chest for a long few seconds, his jaw tight with a sudden grip of emotion and relief. _Alex was safe. She was free. _He spared an instant's regret it had not been he who saved her but buried it quickly.

A slight wheezing sound snapped his attention back to the angel. "You gonna be okay, man?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Cas gave him a brief look of doubt before nodding. He would heal, both his vessel and himself, but he had no idea what would happen when his superiors caught wind of his disobedience. But that was on him, not Dean. "I should go," he muttered before disappearing with a barely perceptible flutter.

Dean's eyes rested briefly on the empty space where his friend had just been. "Thanks buddy," he murmured his sincere gratitude into the air before turning to head downstairs.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Sam ran down Bobby's basement stairs three at a time and dashed over to the panic room door, swinging it open with a strong heave. Bobby was lying sprawled on the floor just inside the door with his head cradled in Alex's lap. She looked up sharply as his large frame filled the doorway and her worried face didn't even register surprise at his sudden presence.

"Sam," she said beseechingly, "I can't get him to wake up."

The hunter quickly sank to one knee next to his unconscious friend, painful memories of finding his father dead on the hospital floor coming to mind. One hand expertly pried a closed eyelid open while the other lifted Bobby's head and worked its way down the skull in search of lumps or contusions. Alex shuffled herself backwards out of his way and stared at him hopefully.

"How long's he been out?" Sam asked urgently.

"Fifteen, twenty minutes," she answered with a worried swallow.

Josh paused for a second when he first stepped into the round room that looked more like a giant steel tank. His sister was kneeling on the floor next to an older dude in a plaid shirt and vest and Sam was checking the unconscious man's head out. They both seemed intensely worried about the man and Josh figured this must be Bobby.

"Lexie," he announced, stepping towards her. She turned and looked up, her blue eyes widening when she saw him.

"Josh!" she cried, jumping to her feet with a slight wince as she straightened up. She threw one arm around him and buried her head in his shoulder. Noticing the nasty bruise forming on her face and how much she was favouring her left arm, Josh restrained himself and returned the hug carefully.

"Hey Sis," he breathed, relieved beyond words to find her alive. "Are you okay?"

"I am now," she answered, her reply muffled into her brother's chest.

"God, you had me worried this time," he gushed, his relief spilling out of him. "I missed you like crazy. You know I love you, huh?"

Alex just answered with a nod, hugging her brother close for a moment before pulling away eventually and looking up at him. "You look like crap," she laughed in an obvious attempt to avoid tearing up.

"Meh," the blond man shrugged, touching his hand to the latest nasty cheek bruises and split lip Ivan had given him and smiling back at her. "You should see the other guy." He gestured towards the man on the floor. "Is this Bobby?"

"Uh-huh," she confirmed with a nod of her head, looking back to Sam. "What do you think?" she asked the young hunter.

As if in answer, a groan escaped the mechanic. Sam looked up with what could almost pass as a smile. "I think he's coming round," he announced through an exhale of relief just as his brother stepped into the crowded room.

Dean assessed the situation quickly, giving Alex a quick once over to see she was alive and breathing before leaning over the older man with Sam. "Bobby?" he said worriedly. "Bobby, you okay?"

"Would you two knuckleheads stop hoverin' and help me up," Bobby growled after blinking his eyes a few times.

Both Winchesters chuckled and Sam leaned forward to help Bobby sit up.

"What happened?" Josh asked his sister. "Where's Red-Eyes?"

Dean answered the question for her. "Dead."

The room fell silent and four sets of eyes turned sharply towards him.

"Dead?" Josh and Alex finally exclaimed in unison.

"Yep," Dean grinned, thoroughly enjoying the look of elated disbelief on both of their faces. "Cas wasted him."

"Wasted?" Josh repeated hesitantly. Alex remained quiet, her hand clamped over her mouth and her eyes still wide in disbelief. To actually hear those words...

"Wasted," Dean confirmed. "Ganked. Snuffed. Exterminated. Toasted. He's gone."

The Brentons were both silent for another long moment. "Is Cas okay?" Alex asked finally.

"Yep. You know, he's pretty tough for a nerdy-looking little dude. Oh that's right, I forgot, you think the nerdy look is hot," he teased.

"Maybe you should take it easy, Bobby," Sam urged, drawing the attention back to the floor as the older hunter struggled to pull himself up using Sam's shoulder.

"Don't patronize me, boy," Bobby growled back. "Just give me a hand, would ya?"

Sam rolled his eyes but threw the mechanic's arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet. Bobby's knees buckled slightly but he recovered quickly and started immediately towards the door, hanging heavily on the taller Winchester. Sam didn't dare argue and went with it. As the others moved to follow them out, Dean gave Alex a tap on the arm. "What happened in here?" he grinned, jerking his head towards the pink pillows and the shear drapes over the gun racks. "Looks like Hannah Montana went postal."

Alex flinched at the painful contact with her burnt arm but managed to almost cover it with a chuckle. "Bobby did it up for me," she admitted quietly so the mechanic wouldn't hear.

Dean laughed, shaking his head as he surveyed the room once more. "I am so gonna get good mileage out of this one."

"Don't you dare," Alex warned him before stepping out into the basement. "I think it was sweet."

Unlike Dean, Josh had noticed his sister's flinch. "Lexie, how are you hurt?" he interrupted, reaching for her left wrist. "What's wrong with your arm?"

She let him turn her arm over to expose the nasty burn on the underside which extended from her inner elbow almost to her wrist. The skin was splotchy, red, and blistered, the entire area puffy and swollen.

"Fuck," Dean sympathized as he too stepped out into the basement. He knew from experience that burns hurt like a son of a bitch and the one on her arm looked like it was pure agony. "That's second degree for sure, Lex. Maybe first. Come on, med kit's in the kitchen upstairs."

"What else?" Josh asked quietly. Although it didn't make this instance any easier, he realized suddenly that this may very well be the last time he would have to pry an injury list out of his baby sister. This had been the last time Red-Eyes would ever hurt her. _The last time._

"I think I broke a couple of ribs," she admitted.

Josh flinched but didn't say anything as he moved in to help her up the stairs behind Sam and Bobby while Dean brought up the rear.

In the living room, Dean righted the couch quickly and headed to the kitchen for the first aid kit. Josh ordered his sister to sit on the sofa next to Bobby and followed Dean to get a wet cloth also. Sam hovered at the far end of the room, making a pretense of straightening up the furniture. In truth, he didn't want to get too close to Alex's mojo for fear of her saying something to Bobby or Dean.

Dean rooted through the cupboard that usually held Bobby's best-stocked medical kit. The older hunter had them stashed everywhere in his cluttered house, but his kitchen one was the Winchester favourite as it had the best inventory of prescription pain meds. Judging by the size and severity of Lex's burn and Bobby's definite concussion, Dean was pretty sure they'd need the good stuff.

He turned to find Josh in the far corner, standing over the battered form of Red-Eyes lying on its side on the floor. The blond man nudged the monster with his foot, rolling him over so he was face up and stood staring down at him for a few seconds in stony silence.

"Ugly son of a bitch, huh?" Dean said, coming up to stand next to Josh.

Josh had never seen Red-Eyes. This thing had killed his parents and terrorized his sister for twenty years and he was just now seeing its twisted, ugly, terrifying face for the first time. It was almost surreal. "So this is what pure evil looks like," he breathed quietly.

"Un unh," Dean shook his head. "This is _dead_ evil, so this is what pure _good_ looks like, dude."

Josh gave his friend a smile, nodding in agreement as he made his way over to the sink. Dean tossed him a clean cloth to run under the tap.

"So what do we do with his body?" Josh asked.

"We take it outside, burn it, and bury the ashes six feet under Bobby's back twenty," Dean informed him matter-of-factly as they made their way back to the living room. "Bobby, you still awake?" he checked as Josh went to work treating Alex's burn.

"Don't you mother hen me, ya idjit," Bobby groused. "I know better'n to take a friggin' nap."

"Geez," Dean joked, his way of letting the older man know how relieved he was that he was alive and breathing. "A little bang on the head makes you even grouchier than usual. And here I didn't think that was possible."

Alex took the two pills her brother offered her without questioning, beckoning at him to keep them coming. Josh knew his sister well enough to realize if she was asking for more then she must really need it so he handed her another two. She tried not to gasp as the cool cloth was laid gently over the raw and painful burn. She was definitely going to have another unsightly scar, this one not so easy to hide, but she really didn't care. Red-Eyes was dead. Fucking _dead_.

She looked over at the eldest Winchester. "So I owe you a huge thanks, Dean," she said to the hunter.

"For what?" Dean looked puzzled. "It was Cas who saved your ass, not me."

Alex smiled. "Cas said his being here was all your doing and that I should thank you instead. So thanks. I mean, like a million thanks."

Dean looked uncomfortable, feeling the gratitude was undeserved. "All I did was point out that if you have the means to help someone then it's your moral obligation to step in, angel or not."

Josh laughed out loud and shook his head, his friendly attitude clearly having returned with the knowledge his sister was safe.

"What's so funny?" Dean demanded, not sure if he was being mocked or not.

"Nothing," Josh appeased. "It's just that Dean Winchester is now giving lessons in morality and right and wrong to the angels of Heaven. From scoundrel to saint."

Alex laughed also. "No wonder God picked you," she said matter-of-factly to Dean.

Dean was suddenly extremely uncomfortable. He had never been able to gracefully accept a true compliment unless it was about his looks and the idea of him being someone special, someone handpicked by God, still felt wrong and awkward to him. His discomfort was short-lived, however, as Bobby came to his rescue.

"Well God better be giving Dean Winchester lessons in how to clean up, 'cause my living room looks like a friggin' warzone," he bitched from his stiff position on the sofa.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Cas knew he should have healed himself and his vessel a bit more before leaving Bobby Singer's house, but he just wanted to get away from the hunter. Dean, with all that genuine concern and worry about the angel radiating out of him, was confusing and almost disorienting. Cas knew he was not supposed to form such a bond with his human charge but couldn't seem to help himself. He cared very much for Dean and his brother Sam. He admired them and respected them both and it made it that much worse when they showed him respect and concern in return. He had harboured doubts for some time about the validity of his orders but had not blatantly disobeyed them until now. And he had done that for Dean.

He landed on the rooftop he sometimes frequented in the Philippines, one of his favourite earthly locations. He stayed there for hours, or perhaps it was days, quietly healing himself and his vessel while he contemplated his situation. He may be sentenced to death as Anna was, or just disgraced and punished as Miniel had been a thousand years ago. One thing he was certain of, however, was that if he had to make the choice all over again, he would follow the same course of action without hesitation.

He felt a familiar presence and noticed an ethereal glow from behind him casting shadows around the protruding objects on the concrete roof.

"Dare I ask what you're doing here, Miniel?" he asked as his old companion stepped up beside him, tucking his magnificent wings away. Surely his superiors wouldn't have sent a formerly disgraced angel alone to bring him in or deliver punishment for his disobedience. That was almost insulting.

_"I must be hasty," _Miniel spoke directly into Cas's mind as he did not inhabit a vessel but was instead here again in his true form. _"They may be watching."_

"They? Watching? Why?" Cas asked.

_"Beware, my brother," _Miniel warned._ "You have displeased our superiors. They do not approve of your recent actions."_

"I did the right thing," Cas said defiantly.

_"You went against our rules, Castiel. You interfered where heavenly intervention was not warranted. To save a human."_

"To save two humans," Cas corrected, annoyed at having to defend himself to an angel who had done the very same thing a millennium ago. "Innocent humans who know of the ongoing war and may be of some use to us in preventing Lucifer from rising." He knew he was reaching with his meager attempt at justifying his actions. "I was given the task of protecting and guiding Dean Winchester but how can we expect him to remain strong enough to complete his task if those he cares about keep…"

Miniel interrupted his spoken words with an urgent thought._ "There is no need to explain," _he placated_. "I, of all beings, am not here to judge you. In fact, upon seeing what path you have taken, I have come to understand why your Dean Winchester was chosen as The Righteous Man." _

Instead of placating, Miniel's comment only further irritated the rebellious angel. "A role that will surely only lead him to certain death," he snapped, having see his charge narrowly escape death too many times since his resurrection less than a year ago. As a result of the 'honour' of being selected as the one who would stop this Apocalypse, Dean had been pitted against both powerful demons and traitorous angels, all of whom far outranked him in strength and ability. It was a miracle the hunter still drew breath.

Cas sighed, reeling in his misdirected anger. "He is but a human, Miniel," he added more quietly. "A valiant one but a human, nevertheless. To have such a burden placed upon his shoulders is cruel and futile. How can a single mortal be expected to stand against Lucifer and the entire legions of Hell?"

Much to Castiel's surprise, Miniel laughed, his tone light and amused.

"_Dean's strength is not physical prowess or skill in battle, my old friend_," he said. "_His strength is honour and determination and unfaltering devotion to that which he believes. His weapon is not a blade or a bow or even an enchanted Colt pistol but something far more valuable in war. He possesses an ability to inspire and enthuse that is rare not only among humans, but that matches that of his rivals, Lucifer and Michael. Look at what you have done under his influence, Castiel. You who held blind obedience in the highest regard until this moment. It is my belief these qualities are the reasons he was chosen_."

Cas remained silent, pondering Miniel's reasoning and found himself unable to raise a single point to refute it. As Miniel had pointed out, Cas himself was proof of its validity, since he had just turned from millennia of duty and beliefs to follow Dean, to act upon Dean's will, and he had done so willingly.

He was about to voice his musings when another thought struck him. "Michael?" he questioned suddenly, turning to Miniel. "You named Michael as Dean's rival. Why?"

"_That brings me to my true purpose for seeking you out, brother. I came to warn you."_

"Warn me of what?" Cas asked gravely.

_"Firstly that your judgment is being doubted and you being closely watched," _Miniel admitted_. "And secondly that I have inadvertently stumbled upon some information. Something it was not my place to know."_

Cas remained silent, his curiosity piqued but almost dreading the information he was certain was not good news.

_"It is about the last seal," _Miniel revealed_. "It is Sam Winchester who will break it."_

Cas creased his forehead in disbelief and rising anger. "Sam is not what many believe him to be," he defended sternly. "He will not turn on his brother and he will not serve Lucifer."

_"I hear his powers are growing stronger and his anger and loathing for Lillith more intense," _Miniel continued calmly_. "As it turns out, brother, Lillith is the last seal. By killing Lillith, Sam Winchester will set Lucifer free. Lillith knows this and has been feeding his hatred for her since the day she dragged his brother into Hell to fulfill his contract."_

"Lillith has tried to kill Sam and Dean both," Cas argued, not seeing how this could be the truth and yet the angels have had no prior knowledge of this. "In fact, she tried to make a deal with Sam, claiming that she would end her quest to free Lucifer if both Winchesters surrendered their lives to her."

_"Her plan was to kill Dean and leave Sam alive," _Miniel countered patiently_. "It makes perfect sense. She would not have to comply with her part of the bargain and give up her quest until she killed both of them. By killing only Dean, she would surely have driven Sam into such a rage he would have destroyed her, thus breaking the final seal."_

Cas stared out at the sun setting over the ocean in a beautiful but angry looking ball of red, absorbing this new knowledge slowly.

"We must tell them," he said deliberately. "If Sam knows, he will not kill Lillith."

_"I'm afraid the situation is much worse than you realize," _Miniel whispered into his mind.

"Are there orders to kill Sam?" Cas asked, his steady voice not betraying the stabbing fear and dread he was feeling inside. He would not obey that order. He would protect the younger Winchester.

_"No. Sam is safe, at least from the angels. Therein lies the problem, my brother."_

Cas wasn't following and gave the angel next to him a confused look.

_"Castiel, _o_ur superiors __**want**__ Sam to break the final seal,_" Miniel spelled it out for him urgently. "_They __**want**__ Lucifer to rise so that they may send Michael after him and destroy him once and for all, bringing back paradise on earth._"

Castiel was speechless. His mind reeled with the implications of this move. For the angels, for humanity, for Sam and Dean. How could his superiors condone this? And where and how did his Father fit into this?

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked finally, Jimmy's voice sounding hoarse from the shock of the revelation.

"_I have spent a thousand years trying to forget a human,_" Miniel replied solemnly. "_A woman named Phaedra whose affect on me was so great it made me forget who and what I was. I never stopped loving our Father and have since restored my faith in him, but can't help but doubt that he would want this horrific fate brought upon his greatest creation." _He paused before adding _"Phaedra would not want this."_

"You will be punished for telling me."

"_I trust you will not divulge your source, my friend."_

"Why don't you do something? What do you expect me to do?"

"_What to do with this information is your decision."_

"So you will do nothing?" Cas accused, suddenly feeling very alone. "How can you know this and do nothing to stop it?"

"_I am sorry, Castiel. I have learned my lesson and will obey my orders. I cannot disobey again. I am finally being assigned a vessel and will once again be permitted to join you here, among the humans."_ There was a definite wistful tone to Miniel's thoughts.

Cas's tone, however, grew angry. "If there are humans any left alive!" he snapped, turning to face the other angel only to find him gone.

Castiel's mind ran quickly through Dean's repertoire of curse words but he reined himself in before Jimmy's mouth could repeat any of them aloud. Now was not the time for anger. He must find a way to relay this information to the Winchesters without alarming his superiors.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

The fourth pill from Bobby's med kit quelled the pain in Alex's chest and arm to a tolerable degree but she paid the price in alertness. Now feeling extremely groggy, she let Josh help her back down the stairs to lie down on the bed in the panic room. The broken ribs were not dislodged and would therefore heal by themselves if she took it easy for the next few weeks. The arm would scar but should heal up without a trip to the ER or skin grafts if she kept it clean and wrapped. All in all, she hadn't fared too badly for a double bout with Red-Eyes.

She explained the room's mojo-curbing affect on her to Josh before falling asleep mid-sentence. Fascinated with the concept, her brother spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon hounding Bobby for specifics on how to build one.

The four men were in high spirits, despite the recent setback on the apocalyptic front. Bobby was in a fair bit of pain himself, having received a myriad of bruises and a nasty knock to the head, and couldn't risk following Alex's lead and going to sleep. He made himself useful, at least as far as he was concerned, by planting himself on the couch and barking orders like a drill sergeant to the three mobile hunters who had suddenly been delegated the task of fixing his house.

Dean and Josh took a quick trip to town to get supplies from the hardware store while Sam was ordered to dispose of Red-Eyes's corpse '_before it attracts more roaches than those sandwiches yer brother leaves in his back seat for three days'_. The youngest hunter bit back a whine about getting stuck with the crappy job when he noticed the slight look of pain peeking out from behind Bobby's misleading scowl and got to work digging.

The rest of the day was spent hard at work plastering and painting and all of the men actually enjoyed the normal everyday work that's only supernatural tie was the cause of the damage in the first place. Bobby's beer supply was quickly depleted and the youngest and most sober Winchester was immediately sent into town for more.

By suppertime, the place looked a lot more like it usually did. Not quite like a normal home because Bobby's place hadn't looked normal in decades, but it had definitely lost its 'ground zero' vibe. Josh went downstairs to wake Alex for supper and decided he may as well take Shelby down with him. He didn't relish answering the inevitable question about why the dog was here to his sister but figured he'd have to tell her eventually. Better done in the privacy of the basement.

The Brentons were still downstairs when McLovin brought the food order from the diner, not that the kid would have noticed Alex's absence because it was Dean who answered the door.

"Dean!"

"Hey Dave, how's it goin'?"

"It's Mclovin now, homie. You here for a while?"

"Couple of days," Dean admitted, shaking his head at the nerd calling him 'homie'.

"Sweet! Can you make me an ID from Texas? Lex says all girls love the Texas boys."

Sam laughed, coming up behind Dean to hand him the cash. "It's the look they go for, Dave. And the drawl. Not the ID."

"Hey you guys wanna hang out at Grady's bar tonight?"

"Sorry Dude," Dean declined. "Got work to do." It took the hunter another five minutes to get rid of the enthusiastic delivery boy but eventually he managed to get the door closed by promising to make him a Texas driver's license with the name Gangsta McLovin.

Bobby scowled, grumbling something about the food gettin' cold. "That's the only thing I won't miss when Lex leaves," he groused, ignoring the raised eyebrows from both Winchesters at the indirect admission he would miss Lex. "Used to be I'd get my food without having to say as much as hello. Now it's '_Hi Mr. Singer. How's it shakin' Mr. Singer_?'"

"Well you can go back to being the crazy old coot in a day or so, Bobby," Alex laughed as she entered the room. Shelby followed her like a shadow, pressing against her legs as she walked and sitting down with her head on the girl's lap when she sat down next to Bobby on the couch.

Sam looked up in surprise from where he sat on the wooden desk chair, keeping his distance from the couch. "Did she just call you an old coot and not get chewed out?" he joked.

Dean slapped his brother's knee with the back of his hand. "I told you!" he exclaimed with his mouth full. "There's a total double standard!"

Alex absently handed Bobby a cold beer she'd brought in for him from the kitchen and dug through the delivery bag for her take-out meal. Bobby took the bottle with a grin and gave the Winchesters a hard stare. "You two should be watchin' and takin' notes," he gloated, holding up the beer. "This right here's why there's a double standard."

Dean was about to ask where his beer was when Josh appeared, handing one to each of the brothers. The elder Winchester grinned at him from where he sat perched on the edge of the desk. "Dude, you're gonna make someone a really good wife someday."

"Don't you wish," Josh snorted, grabbing the last take-out container and claiming the other wooden chair.

The evening was spent sitting around drinking beer with very little talk of demons and monsters and apocalypses. Both Winchesters wisely kept their mouths shut when Alex cranked Tom Petty and Bobby never complained. There was surprisingly a lot of laughter in the mix too, something Bobby and the Winchesters hadn't had much of in recent years. Bobby had already noticed that Alex's good moods could be somewhat contagious but with two cheery Brentons in the room, they were downright infectious. But the thing giving the older hunter's heart that warm, gooey feeling was seeing both Winchesters smiling. That was a sight he sorely missed.

The Brentons had decided to head back to California, now that there was no longer any need to run from either Red-Eyes or the law. Josh was positive he could convince their uncle to drop his psych warrant and Bobby was inclined to believe it. The elder Brenton didn't seem to lack in confidence or optimism like the other kids in the room. He apparently had to report to his parole officer in Santa Cruz soon so they would be leaving by supper time tomorrow and Bobby realized he really was going to miss having Lex around. He hadn't had a female presence in his house since his wife had died and, as awkward as it had been at the beginning, he had enjoyed her company these past weeks.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

The next day, Bobby spent most of the morning and afternoon helping Josh fix his ride. The mechanic had made sure the Bronco had been in great shape when Alex had delivered it to her brother but in the past week, the guy had somehow managed to get it shot up, ransacked, the rear window smashed, and had somehow damaged the gearbox. Bobby astutely figured out that most of that stemmed from working an apocalyptic case with the Winchesters, he just wasn't aware all of it had happened with Dean behind the wheel.

Dean spent most of the day with Alex. He was glad to find that with the death of Red-Eyes, she had almost instantaneously reverted to the fun, smiling girl she had been six months ago. More so, in fact. Things were so gloom and doom these days and the strained relationship between him and Sam was weighing heavily on the hunter. Things seemed lighter and more optimistic when she was around and Dean found himself in an unusually good mood for the duration of the day.

He was slightly surprised that Josh and Lex had somehow made it into his inner circle. Dean made friends quickly but moved on just as fast, losing track of his latest acquaintances unless he ran into them again somewhere down the road. Sam, in their early days of adjusting to one another's company again after Sam's time at Stanford, had once accused him of only having friends that were his Dad's friends first and were more hunting allies than actual friends. Maybe the kid had been right at the time, but Josh and Alex certainly didn't fit in with most of the characters on his phone's contact list.

A hot chick - well yes, he had plenty of those in there - but one he had never slept with (and, he conceded, probably never would sleep with)? Certainly not too many of those in there.

And a pretty-boy emo-surfer? On the outside, Josh was the extreme of everything Dean had always made fun of Sam for. But he was admittedly tougher than he came across and a damn good hunter once you got past the stereotyping. He had a contagious optimistic vibe Dean had enjoyed after all the gravity of the past few months.

Sitting on the porch rail sipping a cold beer, Dean watched Alex for a moment as she stooped to pet the dog that seemed to be permanently attached to her somehow, unable to keep his eyes from roaming appraisingly. He chuckled to himself, realizing how badly he wanted to finish what they had started that night all those months ago when Sam had so inconveniently interrupted them. He had thought about it often and although it usually brought a pang of guilt for how their quick romance had ended, it was still a cherished memory.

Yet he didn't dare make a move in that direction. With things the way they were, with all that was going on and how exhausted he was both physically and emotionally, intimacy and romance just seemed... implausible. Impossible even. For her part, he suspected she wouldn't be able to keep things casual and casual was all Dean had left in him at this point. Until he stopped the Apocalypse, there was no 'down the road' for him. There was no happy ending. There was no family except Sam... no peace, no home, no wife, no kids.

She turned back towards him and her face broke out in a bright smile that forced a reciprocating grin out of him.

But maybe someday... he dared to entertain the notion. The burdened hunter felt the first glimpse of hope he had in months as Alex pulled herself up to perch on the railing next to him. Yeah, maybe he still had some fight left in him. Something to fight for, anyway. Something to look forward to...

And so it was with relaxed contentment he spent most of the day hanging out with her, laughing and teasing and chatting about nothing in particular.

Sam, on the other hand, tried to keep his distance from the blonde as much as he could but was feeling rather left out by mid afternoon. He wished Ruby would call but thought it was perhaps for the best that she didn't. If he drank any demon blood right now, the chances of Alex mentioning it would increase and he just couldn't risk it. Not when he was so close to ending Lillith. After the amount of blood he drank to kill Netiran, however, he couldn't stop thinking about it, checking his watch frequently to see how much longer until the Brentons left. He liked them both and had noticed both Bobby's and Dean's higher than normal spirits today despite the loss of the sixtieth seal less than two days ago, but he really, _really_ needed to see Ruby.

Knowing they were leaving soon, he took advantage of finding Alex alone in the panic room packing up her things to come in and say his good-byes. She couldn't sense anything in the iron ghost-proof room; hopefully that would include him.

"Hey Alex," he greeted with a feigned casual demeanor, ignoring the lip curl Shelby gave him as the dog moved her furry bulk between the two humans. "You looking forward to going home?

She gave him a noncommittal shrug. "I'm looking forward to seeing Tag and Beacon again," she admitted. "And I'm really happy for Josh to be able to go back there, but honestly, California hasn't been my home for years."

"You guys gonna quit hunting?"

She frowned at him. "Are you kidding? With an impending Apocalypse? Josh wants to iron out things with my uncle and get settled, but we'll still hunt. Maybe we can team up from time to time," she suggested with a grin.

"Yeah, right," Sam's returned smile was less than convincing.

"You're worried I'm gonna say something to Dean, aren't you?" she blurted.

"No, I, uh, what do you mean?" Sam flubbed.

"You've been avoiding me since last night," she accused. She turned to face him with a sigh. "Can you tell me what you're doing at least?" she asked, "'cause I could still sense you when we were upstairs."

Sam shook his head. "Can you just trust me?" he countered.

She locked her blue eyes on his green ones for a long moment. "On one condition," she said finally.

"What's that?"

"You drop the A. Everyone else here calls me Lex but you still insist on Alex. What's with that?" She gave him a friendly scowl.

At that very moment, Bobby's heavy footsteps thumped down the last two steps and he appeared at the metal door. "Don't pay no heed to College Boy here," he grinned. "He still calls Dean's feathered friend _Cas__tiel_."

"Hey, I've been called Junior, Baby Winchester, Samantha, and freakin' Lamb-Chop for the past week," Sam groused. "Meanwhile Dean gets called Captain America. Sue me if I don't go for nicknames."

"So it's a deal then?"

Sam smiled at her. "Deal."

Alex turned to Bobby. "You guys finish fixing the Bronco?" she asked.

The mechanic nodded as he rolled his eyes at her. "No offense Kiddo, but your brother's weird."

The blonde girl burst out laughing. She couldn't help but feel a bit of twisted satisfaction that here, in the company of a guy who's been to Hell, a guy with demon blood, and a guy who'd built a demon-panic room in his basement, _she_ was the normal one and golden boy Josh was the freak. "You're just too used to us twisted, angst-riddled freaks, B," she giggled. "Josh isn't fucked-up enough to make any sense to you."

"Well, how'd he manage that? He's a hunter, ain't he?" Bobby retorted, handing Sam her duffel to carry up the stairs for her.

"Yeah but he's different," Alex defended, her fondness for her brother coming through in her tone. "He's got, I dunno, faith I guess. Not in God so much as in people. People and karma." She turned to grin at the mechanic as they followed Sam up the stairs. "That and a good Bob Marley song."

"He's still weird," Bobby insisted. "You should hear his ideas about organizing hunters. He thinks we should have a central database online for pooling information. Says we could enlist a couple of really good IT guys , whatever the Hell an IT guy is, and then we wouldn't have to play dress-up like FBI agents as much." He shook his head, clucking his obvious disapproval. "Friggin' database. Hunting network! The guy clearly don't know much about hunters' social skills, or lack thereof. Ain't a good idea to be making a social network of antisocial sociopaths now, is it? A seedy saloon or my phone number's all a hunter needs to 'network'."

"Well, we do kinda keep reinventing the wheel," Sam defended Josh's ideas as the same thought had occurred to him on numerous occasions. "It would be handy to have an organized database on different monsters and what kills what."

Bobby snorted. "Figures you'd agree," he teased with obvious affection.

Upstairs they could hear Dean raiding the cupboards in the kitchen and Alex wandered off in that direction. Bobby followed Sam outside to put the girl's duffel in the Bronco.

"You seein' what I'm seein'?" he said with a jerk of his head towards the kitchen.

Sam gave his old friend a chuckle, knowing he was referring to Dean and Alex spending a lot of time together. "Yeah, don't worry Bobby, they're leaving soon. Nothing will come of it."

Bobby creased his forehead at the younger Winchester. "Would that be such a bad thing if it did? Gotta admit, the gal makes him smile."

Sam was surprised. "I thought you thought she was too much trouble for him," he reminded Bobby of the older man's comments a few months ago when Sam had implied there may be something starting between the pair.

Bobby shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong," he admitted. "It's in Dean's nature to look out for someone," he elaborated. "That someone has always been you. Unless you plan on spending your life married to your brother, he's gonna need someone else to protect somewhere down the line, 'cause he sure as Hell won't ever focus on himself."

"So what, you're saying she should replace me?" Sam was surprised not only at Bobby's interest in the matter but also at his change in position. He tossed Alex's duffel in the trunk of the SUV.

That earned him a snort and a patented Bobby-scowl. "Nothing could ever replace you, boy. Not to Dean. But you didn't see him after you left for Stanford. It would be easier for him if he had somebody else to watch out for. He needs a mission. Since you were a baby, that mission has been you. Now it's you and the Apocalypse."

"If you two are talking about Lexie and Dean, that's just not going to happen," Josh interrupted. He had been making some last minute adjustments under the hood and neither hunter had seen him there.

"Why not?" Sam asked, curious to know what the resident Dr. Phil's assessment was.

Josh shut the hood and wiped his hands with a greasy cloth. "Lex got burned when Dean turned her in to Uncle Bryce," he shrugged. "I know my sister. She won't open up for that to happen again. He'd have to work really hard to get past that and we all know he's got way too many inner demons to even try."

With that, Josh headed back up the porch steps towards the house. Bobby gave Sam a shoulder nudge. "See?" he whispered, leaning in. "Weird."

Sam just laughed.

Josh walked back inside in time to catch the intimate-looking goodbye hug his sister was giving the elder Winchester and suppressed a smirk. Despite believing wholeheartedly what he had just told Sam and Bobby, he knew there was definitely potential for something real between Dean and his sister. But until the angels and demons drama was over, he didn't particularly want that spark to ignite. Sure Lex's mojo had placed a target on her back but it wasn't nearly as big as the one on Dean's. Better for his sister and her safety that the spark waited until the danger was passed and then, if the interminable hunter was still standing...

Alex broke the hug and headed outside. Dean finished making his sandwich while Josh washed the black grease off his hands at the sink.

"You know," Josh ventured, thinking it was pointless but figuring he'd toss it out there. "When this Apocalypse thing is over and you're all done with you angel duty, if you were so inclined to give my sister a call or drop in to see her, that would be alright by me."

Dean laughed, taking a huge bite before answering back with his mouth full. "Yeah? Well, when this is all over, if you wanna hook up with Sammy, that would be alright with me."

Josh shook his hands dry, grinning at his friend. "Asshole," he muttered.

Dean shrugged, following Josh outside. "I try."

There were handshakes with Josh and hugs with Alex all around, Bobby receiving the biggest much to his chagrin, and the Brentons piled into the Bronco. The three hunters left behind stayed on the porch as the blue SUV drove through the yard to the gate in the distance, standing in silence for a moment before Bobby cleared his throat awkwardly and grumbled something about it gonna be gettin' real quiet around here.

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

_**TBC...**_

_Just the epilogue left with a twist or two you hopefully don't see coming :-D I hope you enjoyed the ending of this trilogy and can see how this story leads right into the episode 'The Rapture'. Please don't be shy and let me know what you thought. I had a sequel in mind set in 2014 (episode 'The End') but never got around to writing it. I have been inspired to maybe try by the kind and encouraging response I got from this posting so stay tuned if you're interested. Epilogue will be up tomorrow._


	32. Epilogue

_Hi there :) So this is the end of the trilogy and I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I didn't shout out a thanks to all those who have reviewed and given me so much encouragement. I have thanked you individually when I could, but to those lovely guest reviewer(s), thanks so much! Also to angeleyenc, Supervikinggirl, Leahelisabeth, Jennstarr, Sandy-it-is, Impalalove, DearHart, Sue Pokorny, Babyreaper, and Littlefish. You guys are awesome and if Dean wasn't in my brain right now, I just might turn this into a sappy chick-flick moment :)_

_Well that last chapter ended in a kinda happy place, right? You didn't really think I was going to leave it there, did you? haha. Well, this is the epilogue, which catches up with our characters a week down the road. This is after the episode 'The Rapture' in which Cas was about to tell Dean what he had found out from Miniel when he was dragged back up to heaven to be punished and 're-educated' (in my story that was in part because of his disobedience in killing Red-Eyes). When he came back he was different and told Dean that he learned his lesson while he was away and that he serves Heaven, not Man and not Dean.__ That was also when Dean caught Sam drinking demon blood and locked him in the panic room to detox._

**Epilogue**

_**One week later...**_

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as another scream rose up from the panic room. He lay on Bobby's couch trying in vain to block out the noise from downstairs long enough to catch a couple of hours shuteye.

Two days Sam had been down there. Two days since he'd caught his brother drinking … _fucking_ _drinking!_ … blood from a demon. Two days of torture that was worse than he had experienced in Hell, this time coming in the form of mental anguish and helplessness and utter disappointment. He felt beaten. He felt gutted. He felt empty.

He looked around the Singer house living room and remembered the last time he'd been here. It had just been a week ago but seemed like an eternity. No, it _was_ an eternity. A lifetime ago. That Dean Winchester from a week ago had been a different man.

A week ago the room downstairs had pink cushions and lacey-looking curtains and had smelled of strawberry shampoo and Lex. Now it was cold, bleak, and empty and was essentially a prison for whatever his little brother had become.

A week ago five people had sat around in this very room and enjoyed life. They had joked and laughed and, despite the looming threat of the end of the world, they had hoped. They had listened to music and talked about their futures as if they would all have one. Now the room was dark and lonely, Bobby having left hours ago with his shoulders slumped and his head hung low.

A week ago, Bobby had been all smiles, blushing as he hugged his houseguest of six weeks good-bye, making her promise to call. He had even finally given up a couple of his well-kept secrets of poker-playing to Dean that night, citing he should pass the knowledge on to the next generation before he was too old to remember it, letting the Winchesters know in his own way that they were his family. Now the mechanic was quiet and sullen and hadn't been without a glass of whiskey in his hand since they'd slammed that big iron door on a shocked and frightened looking Sam.

A week ago, Cas had gone against all the angel rules to think for himself and do what was right. He risked his own life and probably his grace too, to save Dean's friends. Dean had finally believed he had found an angel he could trust. Everything would be alright because Castiel the angel, _his_ angel, understood what was important. They weren't fighting Lillith alone. Now, after Cas's brief stint back upstairs that had left Sam and Dean with Jimmy Novak the radio ad-time salesman, Cas was different. He seemed angry, bitter, and closed off. Dean wasn't so sure he was an ally anymore but suspected his angel had instead returned to Heaven's side of this three-way war.

A week ago, Dean had a sliver of hope left. He had even been entertaining the notion of finding happiness with Alex after the apocalypse was averted. Spending time with her had reawakened that deeply-buried dream he had of being happy and finding love someday in a family of his own. He had been dismissing it and denying it his whole life, but it had always been there, rearing its head from time to time around the odd girl that made it past the one-night stand status for him.

It seemed so ludicrous now. A pipedream he was almost glad to be rid of. It was a relief to no longer want that knowing he would never get it. Seeing his baby brother drinking blood out of a demon had changed him in ways he couldn't describe. The final straw, as the saying went. Love, happiness, a future…just not in the cards for him. It was all gonna end bloody. He had told Sam once that he wished he couldn't feel anymore. Well maybe, he was finally getting his wish. Everything the past few months had thrown at him had finally turned his insides to stone. That ever-growing hole he'd been fighting had won. Too much pain and loss. Adam, Pamela, Alistair, Cas, Sam...

_Sam._

A week ago he had a brother. Now he wasn't sure what he had but whatever it was, it was screaming and cursing at him from its prison downstairs. The image kept flashing through his mind – his brother drinking blood like a vampire. No, worse than a vampire. Vampires couldn't help what they were, it was their nature. Sam had _chosen _his path. Deviously, deliberately, and knowingly. He winced again as the image replayed itself over and over in his head. It flashed between the Sam he had seen in Hell, the fake one the demons had used to torture him with in the last days before he broke, and the real one he had seen two days ago, lapping up demon blood like a greedy cat with a bowl of milk. Those two Sams, he realized with a start, the fake and the real one, weren't really all that far apart anymore. How had he let his brother sink this far? And how was he going to fix it?

_How was he going to save the world when he couldn't save his own brother?_

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

Josh and Alex were sitting in a small outdoor café on a hill just outside of Santa Cruz, sipping on iced umbrella drinks. It was a sunny afternoon and this had been a favourite spot of theirs a lifetime ago. It had been a difficult morning, both sad and therapeutic at the same time. The café was not far from the large graveyard their parents were buried in.

Neither of them had gone to the funeral eight years ago, Josh being in a coma at the time and Alex being held in Oceanview for 'evaluation' by Uncle Bryce. Josh had only visited the grave once back then and thought it would help Alex to finally be able to say her goodbyes and maybe get some closure. He was pleased it seemed to have worked. He didn't see Lex cry often and she had today, sitting on the grass in front of the headstones.

Things had gone well with Bryce, too. Josh had paid him a visit and their uncle had agreed not to have Lex brought in on condition she meet with him a couple of times a month, 'on her own turf' as Josh had insisted. Josh still planned on dragging his uncle's disbelieving ass to the next haunted house they came across in the area, just to prove a point and settle things once and for all, but Bryce was at least playing ball for now.

The pair had been staying with their friend Beacon on their yacht. It was certainly big enough and suited them perfectly. Neither of them had any interest in visiting the house they still owned as it held painful memories for them both. Alex had called Jo as promised and informed her the monster who had killed both their fathers was dead and that they had Dean and his angel to thank for it. Josh had promised to come with Alex to visit Ross Wilson in his secluded wilderness hideaway to let him know he could come back out and rejoin the world. Josh had rolled his eyes but had also promised to tone down the sailor's mouth his sister accused him of picking up during his time in Fort Worth.

Shelby gave a small whimper and Alex decided to take her for a quick run in the grassy field nearby while Josh settled the cheque. The dog rarely left the blonde's side and was starting to lose the perpetual somber look she had adopted when Colby had disappeared from her life. She still sat on the deck of the yacht every evening and stared at the busy wharf as if she expected him to show up at any moment. Her head perked up briefly at every stranger wearing a hat in the distance, but she seemed to be adjusting.

Josh was standing alone by the Bronco when he heard it. A voice. Loud but quiet at the same time. Deep and resonating but strangely, completely silent at the same time. In fact, it seemed to be coming from within his mind.

"_Joshua_."

"What the…" he said aloud, looking around in bewilderment.

"_Joshua, I am Miniel, an Angel of the Lord_," the voice said.

He stopped searching the area for the owner of the voice as he realized it was definitely in his head. _Okay, this was just weird._

"What do you want?" he asked it back nervously, speaking out loud.

"_You have been chosen_," the voice answered. "_There is a terrible danger on the horizon and you are needed to help stop this threat."_

"Say what?" Josh wasn't overly impressed with his own eloquence but couldn't think of anything else to say.

"_You are special, Joshua. You possess a rare quality that allows an angel to come to Earth and walk among you. You can help us fight this war for all humankind. I believe you are aware of this imminent threat, my child_."

"If you mean the Apocalypse, yeah, I'm aware," Josh answered warily, still speaking out loud and looking in a general upwards direction. "Wait, are you talking about being a vessel?"

"_Yes. This is a great honour to be bestowed upon only the most worthy. Forgive me, I would normally take more time to explain and allow you to make the choice, but the need for Heaven's soldiers on earth is most pressing and I must ask you to give me permission right away."_

Josh pressed his palms to his temples and ran them over his hair. "Wait, wait," he breathed, not believing what was happening. Somehow, he didn't doubt this was an angel, but he was still wrapping his head around what the dude was asking.

"How do I know you're one of the good guys?" he asked finally. "I have it on good authority that some of you angels are dicks." He winced at his uncharacteristic rudeness but nerves were getting the best of him right now and that had been the term Dean used most often when referring to angels besides Cas. "No offense," he added, "but how do I know I can trust you?"

"What if I said you could?" came another voice. A deeper but more real, corporeal voice. Josh tipped his head back down to see a guy standing right in front of him wearing a suit and a beige trench coat and not sweating despite the hot summer California weather.

"And who are you?" he demanded, taking a couple of steps back since the guy was totally in his personal space.

"I am Castiel."

"Oh," Josh breathed. That changed everything. He leaned forward and held his hand out for the angel to shake. "I guess I owe you a huge thank-you," he said, shaking firmly as the man hesitantly grasped his hand in return. Josh had expected to see a glow around the angel as his sister had described but realized that must just be one of the few benefits of her mojo. "Seriously bro, thank you," he repeated sincerely.

"You are aware of the situation with the seals on Lucifer's prison?" Castiel asked. The voice in Josh's head was silent now though Josh knew the other angel, Miniel, was still present.

Josh nodded. "Yeah. Sam and Dean filled me in."

"Then will you help us?" Cas pressed.

"By giving my body to an angel?" Josh grinned at the grave-looking man with the freakishly blue eyes in front of him. "I know I'm good looking but seriously? Why me?"

Neither angel seemed amused by the blond man's attempt at levity. It was Miniel who spoke next. "_The qualities you possess that enable an angel to walk the earth in your human form are rare, very rare. It runs in families, it's in your blood_."

Josh's head snapped up at that comment. "Hey, you're not thinking of involving my sister are you?"

"No," Cas assured him. "Your sister lacks the faith that we see in you."

Josh arched an eyebrow. These dudes must have the wrong guy. "Faith?" he questioned. "I'm not exactly what you would call devout. I, uh, kinda used to sneak out of Sunday school to go surfing. Like, every week."

"_Faith is not measured by how often you go to church, my son,"_ Miniel assured him.

Josh tilted his head, exhaling loudly as he tried to process this new turn of events. "What about my sister?" he said eventually. "It's too dangerous for her with her built-in monster-magnet. I can't leave her by herself." He turned to Cas. "You've seen what she attracts."

"_I will make every effort to ensure she stays safe for as long as I am with you,"_ Miniel countered.

"Is that a promise?" Josh frowned upwards as he spoke but didn't wait for an answer from Miniel. Instead he again turned to Cas. "Cas?"

Cas looked uncomfortable and answered a tight-lipped yet evasive response. "You have the word of an angel, Joshua."

Josh closed his eyes briefly, knowing what his answer was but still hesitant to say it. "Okay," he said finally. "I'll do it. But I want to tell Lexie myself. She has to be okay with it or it's no dice."

Cas frowned. "I have….seen…your sister," he said slowly. "She will not agree to this."

Josh could tell by the way the words were spoken that the angel had not meant 'seen' physically but must have been poking around in Lexie's head at some point. He lifted a shoulder and answered truthfully. "She will if you ask her," he said.

Alex showed up just then, running over from the nearby field. "Cas!" she exclaimed, smiling widely at the glowing angel standing next to her brother. She had sensed him as she came around the corner and couldn't contain her excitement. She hadn't had a chance to properly thank him for saving her and completely changing her life. "What are you doing here?"

"We came to speak to your brother."

"We?"

Josh explained what was going on, pointing upwards to indicate the second angel in the conversation that she clearly couldn't hear.

Alex's eyes widened in horror as he spoke. "No!" she cried and spun to face Cas. "What is this, payback?" she accused, her voice rising in pitch and volume though it rang with fear more than anger. "Now I owe you so you get Josh? I would never have agreed to that and you know it! You said you were doing it for Dean!"

Castiel's shoulders stiffened. "I serve a far greater purpose than the personal wants and needs of Dean Winchester," he said sternly. It was clear to all that Alex had hit a nerve but Cas quickly calmed down and his eyes softened before he spoke to her again. "You do not owe me anything," he said. "Joshua has agreed to do this of his own free will."

Alex gasped at her brother. "Josh, no! You just got your life back!"

"And what good is that if Lucifer rises and the whole world goes to pot, Sis?" he rebutted soothingly.

"You can skip this one," she pleaded. "Just once you can let it be somebody else's problem. Why do you have to be the hero?"

Josh's mouth spread into a wide smile. "Hey, this totally puts me one up on Captain America, doesn't it? Being an angel's gotta top whatever plans they got for Dean, huh?" He looked upwards, addressing the angel in his head. "Minnie, you a high-ranking dude or what? An archangel maybe?"

Cas shook his head. "Hosting an archangel is a different matter altogether," he said solemnly. "Not a desirable fate for a human."

"Damnit Josh, this isn't a joke!" Alex cried, her bottom eyelids starting to well with tears. "Please!"

Josh sighed, turning to his sister and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Lexie, you know I have to do this. You know I'm _going_ to do this."

Alex squeezed her eyes shut for a moment but finally nodded. "Yeah, I know," she whispered.

"Just take care of yourself while I'm gone, okay?" Josh pulled her into a hug. "Beacon and Minnie here," he pointed upwards, "Are gonna look out for you. And if you get in trouble, call Dean."

Alex hugged him back, not sure whether she should be tremendously proud of Josh or if she should punch him for his idealistic sense of obligation. Her eyes stung with tears and she buried her face in his t-shirt for a long moment. She could hear Cas fidgeting impatiently behind her and finally let her brother go.

Josh looked upwards, squinting into the bright sun. "Okay, bro, you're getting the loan of a Ferrari here and I want it back in one piece," he warned with a grin. "And take it easy on the donuts, Clarence, I don't want to have to work off a gut when I get back. Oh, and one more thing," he was actually jabbing his finger in the air as he made his demands. "No glove, no love. Capish?"

Alex watched as Josh listened intently to a voice in his head that she couldn't hear.

"I have to say it out loud?" he questioned before nodding in agreement. "Okay then... _yes_," her brother said deliberately. He looked back at her. "Bye Sis, I love you," he smiled before a bright stream of light came shooting down from the sky, enveloping him in a peaceful and beautiful embrace before disappearing almost completely inside him.

Her brother again focused blue eyes on her, blue eyes that weren't his. His face changed in a way nobody that didn't know and love him like she did would recognize, but suddenly it was no longer Josh standing before her. He grew solemn and formal, his posture straightened and his smile lessened ever so slightly. He had a beautiful otherworldly glow and a heartwarming affect on her mojo just like Cas... but it still wasn't her brother.

Miniel gave her a formal nod of gratitude. "Thank-you," he said in a slightly deeper version of Josh's voice. "I will do everything in my power to keep your brother safe."

With that, he turned to Castiel and the two walked away, shoulder to shoulder down the hill. Alex watched them leave, a silent stream of tears coursing down her cheek as Shelby nuzzled her hand in concern. She looked down at the husky.

"It's alright girl," she said through her tears, as if it was the dog who needed the comforting. "He's with the angels. Nothing bad can come of that, right?"

**SPN-SPN-SPN**

***** THE END *****

_And that's it folks. The last of my season 4 inserts. Thanks again for reading this monster of a fic all the way through and please let me know what you thought. I hope the Josh-Miniel thing was a surprise, even though I hinted at it throughout the story (Lex is a vessel, it runs in blood, the shifter couldn't retrieve Josh's memories because of his 'freaky DNA'...). Sorry to leave the Winchesters in such a dark place but that was Kripke's doing, not mine, lol so yell at him for that. _

_If you prefer a happier ending, check out my one-shot that I did using these characters set sometime in the future. It is on my other account (cornev) and is called Team Not-So-Free Will. :) Maybe that will make you feel better about this ending, lol._

_If/when I do the sequel, it will be set in the days before the episode 'The End' in the 2014 Croatoan verse and would be Dean-Cas heavy with Josh and a little Alex and maybe even some Lucifer!Sam. I might even go so far as to bring in some Walking Dead characters...? The muse is spinning. _

_But I desperately need to do some reading first so some of you may be hearing from me soon. Something has to keep me going until our boys get back in September, right? :D_


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